Because of You
by Atlantima
Summary: Being a single father isn't easy. Especially when you're part of a secret society that stands against another, vastly more powerful, secret society. After the wild ride of his asexual technologically-induced hermaphroditic male pregnancy, Desmond's now raising a kid. (Sequel to Kryptokos.) [References to past mpreg, slightly AU, a few OCs, spoilers for Revelations, 3, & Black Flag]
1. Father's Feelings

August 5, 2013

Desmond was awoken by a loud cry. _Is that a baby?_ He sat upright and turned his head to find the source of the noise. As his drowsy gaze fell upon the wailing occupant of the crib behind him, memories soon fell into place like a time-lapse jigsaw puzzle composed of all the events since that medical exam in January: _The results came back really weird ... You're saying he's pregnant? ... It'll be due in July ... Who's the father supposed to be? ... The fetus is human, male, no abnormalities ... Yo, Uterus Dude! ... Who's a widdle Apple-baby? ... Hermaphroditic aberration! ... __ the offspring of Subjects Sixteen and Seventeen__ ... Juno the fertility goddess ... We're a family of born Assassins ... You're making a new life! ... Time of birth: oh-four-forty._

_Not just **a** baby!_ He bolted out of bed. _**My** baby. Holy shit._ It still boggled his mind, though part of him knew that, logically speaking, it really shouldn't, since he'd had seven months to get used to the idea. _Yeah, as if any man could just "get used to" a baby growing inside their guts due to some wack-ass prehistoric ball of technology._

He poked at the screaming newborn, unsure of what to do. _Geez, I read a fuckton about pregnancy, but I didn't read much of anything about dealing with kids once they're born._ "What's wrong, kiddo?" Desmond said hoarsely. "You, uh, hungry or something?" He carefully picked him up and shuffled to the kitchen. The baby quieted during their brief trip, but when offered the bottle, he started to cry again.

"Not hungry. Okay. Uh. Hope it's not..." Desmond checked. It was. He sighed. _Well, I knew this was coming sooner or later._ He shuffled back to his, no, **their** bedroom, removed the small pajamas and clumsily began the awkward diaper-changing process. _Ew, it's all sticky. I'd probably cry too, if this grossness was in my underwear and I couldn't do anything about it._

"Okie doke, kiddo, you're changed," Desmond finally proclaimed, holding him up. "Or I guess I should say 'Okie doke, Andrew' since I did eventually pick a name. You all good now?" Round blue eyes stared blankly in response. Desmond laughed. "Geez, I did it again, huh? Talked to you like you can understand. Well, you're not crying anymore, so I guess that's as good an answer as anything." He yawned and then looked at the clock. Only eight-thirty? "Let's get back to sleep then." He drew Andrew close in a gentle hug, rocking back and forth to soothe him the same way he'd done earlier. "Now, normally I try to be an early bird, but you kept me up all night being born, so I gotta catch up on my sleep."

Desmond felt the tiny rapid thumping of Andrew's heart against his chest, and something Rebecca had said earlier echoed in his memory: _"Four out of five doctors don't recommend parachuting off a freakin' skyscraper while pregnant!"_ The implication of these words hadn't hit him before, but it sure as hell was hitting him now. He tried desperately to quash the sad and sickening thought that this baby could have died inside him. That this life could have ended before anyone even knew it had begun.

_But isn't that what you wanted?_ a voice taunted from inside his head. _You didn't want to be pregnant. You wanted the parasite gone._

"Fuck off," Desmond murmured in response. "Maybe I did want that before. But now I don't want to have wanted that. He's not a parasite. He's a kid." He closed his eyes and dropped his voice to less than a whisper. "And not only that... he's **my** kid."

"Desmond?" He looked up to see his father in the doorway. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine. Just had to change him, and now I'm tryna get him back to sleep."

"Who were you talking to?"

"Andrew, who else?"

"Forgive my skepticism, but I doubt you were telling a four-hour-old baby to 'fuck off'."

"Oh. That. Heh. That part I was talking to myself."

"Come on, Desmond, be honest with me," William said, dubious and concerned. "If you're still experiencing hallucina-"

"I'm not, geez!" Desmond interjected. "It wasn't any Bleeding Effect, I'm just..."

"Just... what?"

"I'm just... a little emotionally mixed-up, y'know. 'Cause of this guy." Desmond indicated the gurgling boy in his arms. "It's just like Shaun said. Things are gonna be weird."

A small smile appeared on William's face. "Yes, I suppose that's true."

The two men fell silent for a couple minutes. Desmond continued to rock Andrew until his breathing became quiet and steady, then set him gingerly back in the crib.

"I've made pancakes for breakfast," William said softly, fearful of waking his grandson. "Would you like some?"

"Yeah," Desmond said, keeping his voice low as well. "But, uh... can you bring my plate in here? I kinda don't wanna leave him."

When William returned with the pancakes, he found Desmond poring over _Your Baby & Child_. "Thanks, Dad," he said upon seeing the short stack. "Looks delish."

"Are you finding that book helpful?"

"Actually, yeah." Desmond set it on the bed face-down, open at the page he'd been reading to keep his place, and started on his meal. "It actually says it's okay to have mixed feelings about the kid at first... it's okay to, uh, not love him." He paused to take a bite, chew, and swallow. "So, y'know, if someone who got pregnant the normal way, who **wanted** to have a kid, can feel ambivalent, and that's okay, then, y'know... for me, it's..." He trailed off.

William got the message and nodded. "I can certainly understand that. Andrew was essentially forced on you. None of us will fault you for not feeling attached to him."

Desmond shook his head, chuckling softly. "No, I feel attached all right. I mean, he was inside me forever, and he's got my genes and stuff. How could I **not** feel attached? It's just... It's not **love**, y'know?"

"Yes, I know. You're handling the situation incredibly well. I'm..." He sat down on the bed and squeezed Desmond's shoulder fondly. "I'm glad you got through it."

"Got through what? His birth?" He chuckled again. "What happened to 'You'll be fine, Desmond, you're strong, Desmond, I know you can do this, Desmond'?"

"Well, that's... You were in pain. And you were frightened. I was trying to reassure you."

"But really you weren't sure I'd survive?" Desmond didn't know how he felt about this.

"I was a little worried," William admitted, scratching at his beard. "More than a little, actually. There are so many things that can go wrong in childbirth, even without the complicating factor of the mother being male."

"Don't call me a mother," Desmond said sharply.

"I wasn't- You know what I meant."

"Yeah, I guess," Desmond sighed. "Well, thanks for hiding your worries away while I was freaking out in labor. Wouldn't have helped me back then to know you also thought I'd maybe die." He pushed his last piece of pancake around to soak up the remaining syrup, then popped it into his mouth. "And, on a lighter note, thanks for bringing me breakfast in bed. And you can tell the Missouri Assassins thanks for that book." He gestured to _Your Baby & Child_.

William took the empty plate and fork. "Do you need anything else?"

"Just need some serious shut-eye." Desmond lay back down, adjusting his pillow and trying to relax despite the weird aches still lingering in his body.

"Go ahead, then. You've earned it."

"Hope Andrew stays asleep more than a few hours this time," Desmond mumbled, then yawned deeply.

"That's all we can do: hope," William said. "You didn't regularly sleep through the night until you were nearly a year old. Andrew might well take after you in that respect. Or he might not. The sleep patterns of babies are unpredictable."

There was no response, for the new father was already out like a light.


	2. News From The Enemy

"So, Miss Crane. What news from the enemy?"

There were five people in the war room. At the head of the table was the man who had spoken, the venerable Mentor of the Assassin Brotherhood: William Miles. On his left sat Stacey Russ, and next to her, Spencer Vermaak. Colin McCorquodale was on the Mentor's right side, and it was next to him that Rebecca Crane took a seat, having just returned from Montreal. "Where's Desmond? The stuff I found out kinda concerns him."

"How so?"

Rebecca fidgeted for a few seconds. "You sure we can't get him in here before I tell you?"

"Miss Crane," William said, giving her a disapproving glare. "Have you forgotten he's just **given birth**?"

"Yeah, he and Andy are gettin' some much needed shut-eye," Colin informed her, with the same casual air that infused all his speech. "Whatever it is, we can fill him in later."

Rebecca's posture slumped a little. "All right... They have his DNA."

There was silence all around for a couple of seconds before Spencer asked, "What exactly are you saying?"

She exhaled heavily. "After they kidnapped him, Abstergo took blood samples."

Stacey nodded. "Right, their doctors ran a chem profile before clearing him to be used in their Animus program."

"Well, that's not the only thing that they used his blood for."

"Ag, stop beating around the bush and tell us whatever it is already!" snapped Spencer.

"They've figured out how to see his genetic memories without him being there," Rebecca said, the words almost running together.

Now there was silence for five full seconds while everyone was processing the implications of this breakthrough.

Stacey was the first to speak again. "I think it's best we **don't** tell him just yet."

Rebecca was puzzled. "Huh?"

"Something like this is likely to stress him out immensely. He's already going to be dealing with Andrew, as well as recovering physically from childbirth, so he does **not** need any additional stressors."

William rubbed his forehead. "Hm. Yes. As much as I don't want to keep this from him, Ms. Russ is correct," he admitted.

"So we're gonna pretend like nothing's going on?" Spencer thundered. "You gotta be kidding."

"We'll pretend nothing's going on **for now**," William specified, then turned back to Rebecca. "Are there any **immediate** concerns at Entertainment? Things that need to be acted on quickly?"

"I don't think so. They've only just started looking into Edward's life."

"Whose life?"

"Ah, Edward Kenway. That's the ancestor they're researching right now."

"Kenway," Spencer repeated. "That sounds familiar. Why does that sound familiar?"

Colin, ever the know-it-all, instantly piped up. "Eddie was Haytham's father. Born 1693, died 1735. He was a sheep farmer, privateer, pirate, and Assassin, in that order. And apparently he's involved in something the Templars want their hands on. And that something is?" He turned to Rebecca.

"Well, I don't know what it's called," she held up her thumb and fingers a few inches apart, "but it's a little square glass deal about yea big with a red blob inside."

Abruptly, William's eyes became more focused and he leant forward. "A Blood Vial?!"

Rebecca seemed a tiny bit scared by the man's intensity. "Uh, it's more a cube than a vial, but, yeah, I suppose the red blob could be blood."

He pursed his lips, contemplating. "So the Order is still interested in those. We thought they'd abandoned the Observatory idea. We thought they were using the NSA et al as a modern replacement."

"Observatory?" Spencer queried.

"First Civilization facility, said to contain a mechanism allowing the user to spy on anyone anywhere, provided that a sample of the target's DNA is placed within one of the Blood Vials."

"Shit."

"Yes, 'shit' is quite apt, Mr. Vermaak. If the Observatory still exists and they find it, then clearly the first thing they'll do is use it with Desmond's DNA to find out where he is. Where **we** are."

There was another long silence. Each of the five Assassins was thinking the same thing: that they could not, under any circumstances, allow that to happen.

Eventually, Spencer spoke again. "How do we know this intel is trustworthy?" he asked warily. "It's been provided by an Abstergo employee. It could be bogus, could be meant to fool us into **thinking** they're still able to see Desmond's ancestors, **thinking** they're on the trail of this Observatory."

"So they're tryin' to psych us out?" Colin asked.

"I wouldn't put it past them."

"I don't think that's likely," said William, shaking his head. "The employee who dug this intel up for us has no idea why she was asked to, no idea who she's handed it over to."

"You can't know that for sure, Bill," Spencer insisted. "Could be Shaun's cover is already busted and they're just using our op to feed us misinformation. Could be their real plans are something completely different and they want us to waste our limited manpower on-"

William cut him off. "I see your point. But there's nothing concrete we should be spending manpower on yet anyway. We don't know how close they are to finding the Observatory, or where they've got their stash of Blood Vials. So we can't make any moves yet, no matter if this intel's correct or not." He fixed his steely gaze on Rebecca. "So, Miss Crane. They're looking into Desmond's ancestry without Desmond himself. Could you modify our Animus to give us this same capability?"

She flashed a brief but eager smile. "I knew you'd ask that, and I've already got a couple ideas on how we might be able to. It'll be a challenge, but I'm raring to go, Bill."

"Good. Make that your absolute top priority. And collaborate with the other cells; pool your knowledge to get this done as fast as possible. If Desmond's ancestor knew the location of the Observatory, we've got to beat Abstergo to the punch on it.

Colin raised a hand. "Maybe Johnny-boy could be persuaded to leak us some of Abstergo's code. So's we don't gotta work from scratch."

William nodded. "Yes, that would be a boon. Whatever we need to do to ease things up for Desmond. He's spent more time in the Animus than any other person alive." The last word was a purposeful nod to Clay Kaczmarek. "I'd like him to never have to go in again."

Rebecca's smile was gone, replaced now by a thoughtful expression. "Do you think his genetic memories are still intact?"

Spencer looked at her quizzically. "Why wouldn't they be?"

"His DNA changed since he got pregnant, remember?"

"Yeah, man," said Colin. "Seahorse genes, or summat like that."

"So there's a possibility the Edward Kenway part of his genome was replaced with the instructions for making a baby," Rebecca explained.

"Ag. We're really screwed if that's the case. We'd hafta mount a mission to steal some of the pre-pregnancy sample they've got. And they're sure to have a metric ton of security on it."

"All the more reason to not mention any of this to Desmond," William said, "At least not for now. Not until we have more information, some plan of action."

And so it was agreed that this news would be kept from Desmond for the time being.


	3. Chapter 3

August 6, 2013

"Hey there bud," Rebecca said, waving to Desmond as he entered the kitchen.

He replied with "Ugh! Why's it so god damn **hot**?!"

"Because it's summer," she stated plainly.

"We have a fucking AC, don't we? Can't someone turn it down?"

"Then it would be even hotter," Colin pointed out.

Desmond scowled at the feigned obtusity. "I mean down to a lower temperature, smartass! Higher power, lower temperature."

Rebecca spoke up. "Generator's not doing too well these days. If we stress it too much it'll burn out and then we won't have any AC at all."

"Ugh. Living off the grid sucks." Desmond opened the fridge and stuck his head in, more to offset his heat than to look for sustenance. In doing so, he spotted a beer among the other cold foodstuffs.

_Beer. Man, I could really go for a beer. But I can't, 'cause I'm- Wait! I'm not anymore!_ He let out a cackle of maniacal joy and snatched the can, then held it high above his head like a trophy. "Fuckin' A! I can drink this now!" he proclaimed. "I can drink this now 'cause I'm **not pregnant anymore**!"

Rebecca stifled a laugh.

Desmond didn't notice or care about her reaction, though. His fingers were trembling with anticipatory glee, so much so that he had a little trouble actually opening the beer. But he did manage it, and then greedily slurped the refreshing liquid.

"Ahh, that hits the spot," he sighed, slithering into a chair. "Reason number two I'm glad I didn't grow boobs: No worries about getting booze all up in kiddo's milk." He took another swig, slower this time, savoring the previously-forbidden treat.

"Speaking of Junior, how's he doing?"

"Spencer's watchin' him. One of those ten hours of babysitting he promised me, remember?"

"Yeah, I remember. Oh, while I was in Canada, I told Shaun the happy news," Rebecca informed Desmond.

"Mm. So your part of the mission's done already? I didn't expect you back so fast."

She exchanged looks with Colin for a fraction of a second before replying. "It was just a quick little rendezvous. Just had to pick up some intel is all."

"What kind of intel?" Desmond queried.

"Uhh, nothing much. Just some specs on the kind of Animi they're using," she fudged. "And now Bill's got me tasked with doing some upgrades to ours so we can keep up."

Desmond chuckled. "But you've always said your Baby is ten times better than anything at Abstergo. What the hell kinda upgrades could it need?"

"Uhh..." Rebecca floundered for a believable answer. "They've got... Their Animi are, like, more..."

"Portable!" Colin said, his voice a little louder than usual. "Their Animi are portable!"

"Portable," Desmond repeated.

"Yeah, they've made it where instead of lyin' down in a chair, you put this little headset doodad on." Colin demonstrated with a hand gesture.

"Oh. I guess that'd be kinda cool," Desmond said, not sounding entirely convinced that such a change was necessary. There was a short silence before he spoke again. "Did Shaun freak the fuck out when you reminded him of my situation?"

Rebecca was glad for the topic shift. "He handled it pretty well, actually. I think it was just the pregnancy part that squicked him. Now that Andrew's here finally, he's probably gonna construct a false mental narrative where you adopted him or something."

"Or where some chick named Allison had him," Desmond said, crumpling the empty beer can on the table.

"Alice," Colin corrected. "Your fictional girlfriend is named Alice."

"Whatever."

"You gotta remember these details, bro, you gotta keep your story straight if you're gonna keep keepin' it secret."

"All right, all right," Desmond said dismissively, then underhanded the crushed wad of aluminum into the recycle bin. "Now I better go take a shower and get all this sweat offa me before my hour's up."

"Don't you wanna, like, actually eat something while you're out here?"

"Well, I **wanna**," Desmond rubbed the heel of one hand on his temple, "but somehow I've got some kind of... I dunno... backwards morning sickness."

"Backwards?" Rebecca tilted her head and lifted a confused eyebrow.

"Backwards from the regular kind. After the end of pregnancy instead of at the beginning. Ever since the, uh..." He wasn't quite capable of saying the word "birth" right now. "Ever since yesterday, I'm feeling weird and queasy at random times. Like now, for example."

"Postpartum nausea," Colin supplied.

"Is that a thing? A thing that happens normally?"

"Sometimes."

"Man, that's a relief. I thought maybe it wasn't backwards at all. I thought maybe it meant I somehow got knocked up again right the fuck away."

Rebecca snorted. "How would that happen? You haven't touched the Apple-"

Desmond flung his hands up and out in a 'who the hell knows' gesture. "Hey, it made me grow a mangina without touching it again! Is it so impossible that it'd also make me auto-conceive another kid?"

She nodded slightly in acknowledgement.

"So yeah, I don't think I'd be able to stomach any sorta solid food right now." Desmond stood up and began to leave. "I'll try eating again in a couple hours. Cool refreshing shower'll probly make me feel better." He was almost out of the kitchen, then stopped and turned back, leaning on the door frame. "So... they're still subjecting people?"

Rebecca and Colin glanced at each other again.

Desmond took that to mean they didn't understand his question. "I'm assuming Abstergo kidnapped some other poor guy after I got out, is what I mean. Did you get any info on what's going on with Subject Eighteen while you were in Montreal?"

"I... No, sorry. Didn't hear anything about that."

He shrugged. "Yeah, don't suppose you would. 'Cause Entertainment is like, staffed with normal people who think Abstergo's just some company, right? Makes sense the Templars would keep their evil kidnapping and mad scientist shit in their evil kidnapping and mad scientist division."

"Yeah, it's... compartmentalized," Rebecca stammered.

"'Course it is." Desmond looked at his watch. "Shit, only ten minutes left in my hour, I gotta hit the showers quick!" He skittered out of the kitchen and down the hall, sandals slapping loudly on the linoleum.


	4. Lullaby

August 12, 2013

"So, Desmond. One week postpartum. How are you feeling?"

"Um. Pretty normal, actually, considering the circumstances. Hey, stay still!" This last part was addressed to Andrew, who was trying to wriggle out of Desmond's arms. "You wanna fall on the floor? I don't think so! Stay still so I can keep a hold on you, kiddo."

Stacey smiled a little. "Do you have any complaints to report?"

"Well, that nausea seems to be done. Nothing else to complain about, I guess, except the stretch marks and stuff, but I already know you can't do anything about that. When can I start working out again? I wanna lose this residual belly ASAP. "

She tapped her pen against her chin thoughtfully. "I suppose... whenever you feel like you can handle it. But start out light, okay? Walking before running, running before lifting weights, lifting weights before climbing, you get the idea."

He nodded. "Yeah, I got it... Heh, check it out, Stacey. He's doing that thing again, looking for my nonexistent boobs." Andrew was burying his little face in his father's chest, mashing his open mouth against the shirt repeatedly, drawing deep trembles of laughter from Desmond. "I dunno how long it's gonna take him to figure out I don't have anything for him to latch onto."

Stacey chuckled at the sight. "I suppose every baby does that when the person who gave birth to them is holding them. The reflex is a little pointless in this case. Speaking of giving birth, how's your birth canal doing?"

"Ugh." He shuddered. "Can we not call it that? And don't you dare say 'vagina' either!"

"Okay, how's your... genitalia? Is that better?"

He snorted. "That's a little better, I guess. It's, uh, stopped bleeding finally." Desmond was glad he'd read up on pregnancy and birth, so the postpartum discharge hadn't come as a surprise. It had still been super weird, though. "And hopefully it'll never bleed again, 'cause those pad dealies are fucking uncomfortable. From now on, I just wanna forget that part of me even exists."

"Well, even if you don't menstruate, you will need a Pap smear every few years, okay?"

"Pap... smear," Desmond repeated slowly. _I'm not sure what that is, but I'm pretty sure I won't like it. It sounds gross._

"That's a test done to check for abnormalities in the cervix," Stacey informed him. "Cancer cells, for example. You have a family history of cancer, remember?"

"I..." He looked away, his mouth suddenly dry. "Yeah... I remember."

Stacey quickly changed the subject from his late mother. "Okay, then! Everything on your side seems to be fine, so let's check out Andrew now. Let's start with his weight."

Desmond was still inexpert at handling the fragile little human, and it showed in the awkwardness of Andrew's transfer to the scale. He watched over the medic's shoulder as she weighed the neonate. "Yo, I think your thing's busted."

"Hm? What do you mean?"

"I mean this doesn't make any sense," he said, tapping the readout. "How can he be six pounds ten ounces? He was seven and two before. I remember exactly it was seven and two, just like Ezio's door code."

This reference puzzled Stacey. "Ezio's... door code?"

"Back in Italy- Oh, forget it." Desmond stopped the explanation almost as soon as he'd begun. "That doesn't matter. Just, tell me why he's lost weight!" He sounded suddenly worried.

"It's okay, it's normal," she reassured him. "My reference books say babies lose about five percent of their birth weight in the first week, from water weight or something."

"Or something?" he repeated, not liking the vagueness.

"I don't know exactly, okay? I'm not a pediatrician, Desmond, and you know it," she said as she handed Andrew back to him. "I'm experienced in patching up injuries, not bringing up babies. Sorry."

"Right. Of course." Desmond let out a soft nervous laugh. "Because there's a lot more dying Assassins than newborn ones, like you said before." The words _dying Assassins_ replayed spookily in his mind, and Desmond found himself hugging Andrew a little closer.

* * *

><p>August 13, 2013<p>

"Stella, stellina... La notte si avvicina..." Desmond murmured softly as he set Andrew down gently in the crib. "La fiamma traballa... La mucca nella stalla... La mucca e il vitello... La pecora e l'agnello..."

He'd woken up this morning with the tune in his head, and trying to figure out where it was from had driven him crazy for hours. Then as he'd been rocking Andrew to sleep after his midday feeding, the music's context had suddenly flowed into his consciousness. It was a lullaby that had often been sung to the Auditore children.

As soon as he'd had this revelation, Desmond had begun to hum the tune, and eventually the words had come to him as well.

"La chioccia con il pulcino... Ognuno ha il suo bambino... Ognuno ha la sua mamma..." Desmond paused and scratched his head, musing quietly on that last line. "Beh... quella parte non è vero. Non per te," he said to the motherless little boy. He then resumed singing, inserting some additional lyrics.

"Ognuno ha la sua mamma, salvo Andrew, che ha il suo papino... E tutti fanno la nanna." He stood there, leaning lightly on the crib railing for a while, not even conscious of how much time passed.

"Desmond?"

"Mm?" he responded to the quiet voice from the doorway, not taking his eyes or his mind off of the sleeping baby.

"I, uh, I'm going up to Montreal again... Another intel transfer."

"Mm. Bring me a souvenir."

"Sure thing, bud."

"Hey, you know what, Becca?"

"What's that?"

"You were right... he is kinda cute."


	5. Bonding and Shit

August 17, 2013

"Ah, there you are Desmond," William said upon finding him outside in the late afternoon.

"Yep, here I am, scrubbing a buncha nasty diapers." His voice was edged with loathing. "Stupid fucking Templars." This seeming non sequitur referenced the necessity of using cloth diapers in order to minimize the waste output of their clandestine location.

"Would you like some help?"

Desmond wrung out a river of murky water from a sudsy cloth. "Hah. I'm just about done now. I'll hold you to that offer for next time, though." He stood from beside the large washtub to hang the diaper on the drying line with all the others. "Y'know, I read that breastfed baby poop doesn't smell near as bad as formula-fed. Is that true?"

William made a forced cough. "I've never run a comparison, so I couldn't say."

"Mm." Desmond collapsed onto the blanket beside where Andrew was laying. "So, did you want something?"

"I've made you a present." William held out a bundle of cloth.

Desmond sat up and reached to take it. "Oh? What's the occasion?"

William shook his head very slightly. "No occasion. Just consider it recompense, since my earlier gift was rather shabby."

"No, the cassette's all right," Desmond corrected. "I mean, it doesn't seem to help him sleep, but sometimes it works for calming him down when he's grumpy."

"Well, this will be more useful. Go ahead and try it on so I can see whether it fits."

Desmond unfolded the bundle. "Uh... It's a..."

"Baby carrier."

"Baby carrier. Huh." Desmond's mouth twitched in a smile. If this "unmanly" gift had come with the others at that party a couple months ago, he'd have greeted it with instant scorn, but now he felt genuine gratitude. "So I can have him on me and still be able to use my arms. Cool beans." He held up the thing and turned it back and forth. "Um. Which way do I wear it?"

"He goes in here, in the front." William indicated the pouch part.

"All righty. Let's give it a whirl." With a little help from his father, Desmond put it on, placed Andrew in it, then cautiously stood up. "Huh. Seems to work pretty good."

"Fit all right?"

"Fits all right on me. It's a little big on him," Desmond put a hand inside the pouch to demonstrate the extra space, "but I guess that's to give him room to grow?"

William nodded.

Desmond smiled. "Thanks, Dad. ...I love it."

"Just let me know if it needs any adjustments."

This last word reminded Desmond of something. "Oh! Speaking of adjustments. I heard you asked Rebecca to make our Animus portable?"

"I... ah," William stammered.

"I think that's kinda stupid, honestly. Don't you have anything better for her to do?"

"Ah, you're quite right, Desmond," William said, setting his facial features carefully. "Portability isn't really a high priority."

"I mean, it woulda been handy last year, when we had to keep running around to different hidey-holes. But now we're settled here, and we're not even using the Animus at all anymore, y'know?" Desmond shrugged, and this familiar action felt a little strange with the added weight of Andrew in the carrier.

"Right, we're not," William repeated, putting a fatherly hand on Desmond's shoulder. "You'll never have to use the Animus again."

"Heh. You can't be sure about that, Dad. Who knows what other crazy shit is buried in my genetic memories that we might need to fight the Templars?"

"We've fought Templars without the Animus' help for a long time, Desmond," William said firmly. "I don't want you to suffer through any more of that."

He felt curiously uncomfortable at this open expression of his father's caring side. "You're making it sound like it's some kinda torture device, Dad."

"That is essentially how they used it with you, and with their other subjects."

"Yeah, well, it wasn't all pain and suffering. I got some mad skills out of it, remember?"

William's response was a throaty "Hmf."

"And yeah, I know you've fought them without the Animus, but you and I both know we're not really doing that well against them these days," Desmond pointed out. "So if the Animus can give us an edge in the fight, we gotta use it to our advantage."

There was a barely audible sigh. The hand on his shoulder moved to adjust the carrier's strap slightly.

"I mean... yeah, I get what you're saying, about it being kinda hard on me. I admit it's not super fun, but I can deal with it, all right? Like how I'm dealing with Andrew." Desmond looked down at the baby and rubbed his head lightly, careful to avoid the soft spot.

"So..." William's fingers joined Desmond's in running through the feathery brown hair. "Should I take that to mean you've... adjusted to fatherhood by now?"

"Well..." Desmond faltered. "It's still kind of weird." He moved his hand and allowed Andrew's tiny fingers to wrap around his thumb. "I dunno how much of that is normal getting-used-to-new-baby weirdness, and how much is... y'know, 'cause of how he happened."

"Mm." This sound concealed the barest hint of a chuckle.

"But, yeah, I seem to have the basics down by now. Feeding him, changing him, washing him, holding him... By the way," Desmond looked back up at his father. "I don't think you've held him yet. Do you wanna?"

"I, ah..." William's expression was somewhere between flustered and honored. "All right." He held out his hands stiffly.

Desmond removed Andrew from the carrier and delicately placed him in William's arms. "Got him?"

At a loss for words, he simply nodded, slack-jawed.

Andrew scrunched his nose and began to make some babbling noises of discontent.

"Hey, don't be like that, kiddo," Desmond mock-scolded. "Be nice to him, he's your grampa. Plus he's the Mentor, so you gotta be double-nice to him."

The noises didn't stop. William looked stricken.

"Umm, try tickling him. He likes that," Desmond suggested.

William cradled him in the crook of one arm and poked at the slightly rounded tummy. Almost instantly, Andrew's mouth twitched into a grin.

Desmond smiled. "There you go. Just be careful of his new belly button." He indicated the tender red spot where the umbilical stump had recently detached.

William began to laugh softly along with Andrew, and Desmond couldn't help but join in.

After a few minutes, William sighed deeply and contentedly. "Well. That brought back a lot of memories." He slipped Andrew back into the carrier, then cleared his throat and put back on his serious face. "Now then. Back to my previous question: Are you fully adjusted to dealing with Andrew?"

Desmond's forehead wrinkled. "Define 'fully adjusted'."

"Do you think you could deal with him properly, while also participating in Assassin activities? Not missions yet," he quickly specified. "We're not sending you on any missions for the foreseeable future."

"Define 'foreseeable future'?"

William rubbed his beard, contemplating. "Six months to a year, at least."

"Aw, geez." Desmond felt the weight of that time period almost like a physical blow to his body.

"You did decide that you would raise him," William said with a well-practiced scolding tone. "We did raise the option of sending him off to another den, and I specifically remember your answer: 'No, I don't want that.'"

Desmond sighed and rubbed Andrew's hair again. "Yeah, yeah. You're right, of course. And the first year is really important for bonding and shit, s'what the book said. It's just... I already had to sit on the sidelines for months after finding out I was knocked up. And now another year on top of that. Fuck."

"I didn't say it would definitely be a year, Desmond. And besides, there's more to being an Assassin than going on missions."

"You mean meetings and stuff."

William nodded. "Meetings, training, den maintenance, logistics, research. The list goes on and on. So, what is your answer? Are you fully prepared? Or would it stress you too much, do you need more time off?"

"Stress?" Desmond threw his head back and cackled. "Dad, after all the shit I've gone through, the kidnapping, the coma, the doomsday, the fucking unplanned male pregnancy and birth? I think I'm pretty much immune to stress by now."

The Mentor fixed his iron gaze on Desmond. "You're seriously ready?"

"Hell yes, Dad. I'm ready."

William opened his mouth to respond, but was interrupted by a bright flash of light, which startled Andrew into crying.

"Hey, relax, kiddo," Desmond said to the bewildered baby. "Don't be scared. That's just Colin and his god damn stealth photography." Despite the usage of "god damn", his tone made it clear he was amused rather than angry.

"Yeppers. I've been on the lookout for a nice shot of the three Miles males all together, and this was a golden opportunity," came a familiar airy voice from the trees above. "I didn't realize I had the flash on, though. Now I gotta take it again, it's all washed out."

Desmond switched on his Eagle Vision and looked into the leafy canopy. "He's over there," he told William, pointing. "How about we give him a nice trio of smiles?"

However, the elder Assassin was not in a smiling mood. "Mr. McCorquodale!" he fumed. "You're supposed to be watching the perimeter, not playing paparazzi!"

Colin sighed. "Yes, Mentor. Sorry, Mentor."

Desmond watched the skinny blue form lope away through the treetops, and then turned back to say something to his father, but the words evaporated from his tongue and were replaced by "Holy shit!"

William was justifiably troubled by this. "What's wrong?"

"I... Andrew..." He'd just seen what his son looked like in Eagle Vision, and it left him nearly speechless.


	6. Glitter In The Darkness

"Andrew what?" William probed.

"He's... he's not blue," Desmond said, stupefied.

"Not blue," repeated William blankly, unsure how to take this news. The whole concept of Eagle Vision was still quite strange to him. He'd never really believed the tales told about this alleged ability. Yes, it was quite probable that some masterful Assassins could deduce people's loyalties by close observation, or could have a really good eye for hiding spots. But a literal second sight? That was preposterous. Or it was until his long lost son suddenly had it. "...What color is he, then?"

"He's just... nothing. Like..." Desmond blinked, squinted, blinked again. "There's kind of some sparkly things, but mostly nothing. I don't get it." He stared intensely at Andrew's chubby face, a pale patch of silver-gray between the blue radiance of the two men. "What's the deal, kiddo? Both your parents are Assassins, so why aren't you... hm. Oh." Then he laughed and switched back to normal vision.

William gave him a quizzical look.

"Derrr, of course you're not blue." He smiled and beeped Andrew's nose, eliciting a happy squeal. "You're not even old enough to walk or talk, let alone understand this whole Assassin/Templar thing, so Eagle Vision obviously categorizes you as a civilian."

Andrew made a series of drooling babbles, possibly an attempt to communicate.

"I suppose that makes sense," William said slowly.

"Yeah, he's like a total blank slate, he doesn't know anything except how to eat, sleep, cry, and poop." Desmond's face went a little pale. "Oh man... I'll have to teach him everything. **Everything**. Not just normal kid stuff like walking and talking, but I gotta teach him about the Creed and the Templars and all the history with Altaïr and Ezio and stuff too."

"We'll be here to help with that," William said good-naturedly. "You're not alone in this."

Desmond looked into his father's eyes. "Thanks."

He waved a hand dismissively. "You don't need to thank-"

"Well I wanna say it anyway, so ...Thanks."

"We're a brotherhood, Desmond. Meaning we work as a team. In childrearing as in everything else." William patted his shoulder again.

"Speaking of which: Did you have some sorta special assignment for me? Now that I've assured you I'm fit for duty again?"

William's face tensed. "Ah. There are some... things... going on with Abstergo."

"Things?" Desmond stifled a laugh. "Uh, can you be a teensy bit more specific?"

"Well... we're still piecing it together, actually," William lied. He felt somehow unable to reveal the dismal fact that Abstergo was still using Desmond's genetic memories. "The situation is... complex."

"Is it about Subject Eighteen?"

William sighed. "There is no Subject Eighteen."

"Seriously? You mean they've given up on that whole project? Or they just haven't kidnapped their eighteenth guy yet?"

"Not all their subjects were kidnapped, Desmond," William said. "Some volunteered. For example, Subject Two was Vidic himself."

"Huh." Desmond digested this factoid for a few moments before he spoke again. "That's interesting, but it doesn't answer my question."

William sweated in silence. Then, from out on the water, a goose honked noisily. The sound frightened Andrew and he began to squirm and cry.

"Hey, chill out, kiddo," Desmond said, wiping the tiny tears away. "It's just a stupid bird, it's not gonna hurt you." He looked back at William. "So, you don't have any assignment for me?"

"Ah... not as of yet, no."

_Why's he all nervous and shit? It's like he still doesn't think I'm ready for whatever it is. When did he become Mister Hyper-Protective Dad? Ugh._ "Having a uterus doesn't make me any less capable of doing stuff, you know," Desmond said testily.

William frowned. "I know that, Desmond. It's just... there's nothing in particular that we need you for right now."

_Hah! Then why was he all insistent on knowing whether I was ready? I guess it'll take some time for him to realize I'm not suddenly some weakling just because a baby came outta me._ His mouth went dry. _God damn. A baby really came out of me._ "Well... can you at least tell me how long Shaun's gonna be out on this current mission deal? Not like I miss him or anything, I just-"

"Actually," William interrupted, "he'll be coming back briefly sometime next week to give us a briefing. A summary of the Entertainment situation." He covered his mouth and coughed. "What's the meaning of the, ah, sparkles?"

"Huh? Oh, on Andrew. Um..." Desmond turned back on his Eagle Vision. Flickering glimmers outlined his son. "I guess it means... he's important? I'm supposed to protect him? Heh. As if I didn't know that already." He took a gentle hold of both the boy's hands. "Yeah, I didn't want to have a kid, and I didn't like all that pregnancy shit, but that doesn't mean I'm not gonna love this little guy now that he's here."

There was another short silence before the elder Assassin cleared his throat. "I... I'm glad you're satisfied with the carrier. I'll be in my office if you need me."

"Uh, okay. See ya," Desmond called after him.

It wasn't until half an hour later, while mixing up a bottle of formula for Andrew, that he realized what he'd said.

_"Doesn't mean I'm not gonna love this little guy."_

_"Love." Do I love him? Is this what parental love feels like? Shit, I don't know. Maybe?_

_I wanna protect him, but that's just because he's a baby, he can't protect himself. Assassins protect people all the time. That's not love. Is it?_

_I was worried when Stacey's scale said he lost weight. Because I want him to be healthy. Is that love?_

_I want to teach him what I know. Because I want him to grow up right, and not make the same mistakes I made. Is that love?_

_Instead of foisting him off to some other den, I decided to raise him here. Because I want him to know he's my kid. Because I want to watch him grow up. Is that love?_

Desmond clutched his heaving chest. Behind the ribs, an unfamiliar warmth was aching.

Rebecca, sitting at the kitchen table and cuddling Andrew while Desmond fixed the formula, noticed his discomposure. "Hey, are you... crying? Or laughing?"

"Kind of both," he sputtered quietly.

"Um. Dare I ask why?"

He wiped his eyes and turned to face her with a stupid grin. "Eh-heh... I just realized... I think I love my kid."


	7. In Memory's Mystic Band

August 19, 2013

The first time, it had been scary. The tower had seemed a mile high. _Probably wasn't more than forty feet, really. Maybe fifty. But, in fairness, I was like ten years old._

Height notwithstanding, the climb hadn't been the scary part. The scary part had been teetering out on unsteady legs to the edge of the jutting plank, feeling like he could be blown away by the savage wind at any moment.

However, the worst part had to be the Leap itself. Prodded into action by the scathing jeers of teenagers below, else he would have turned and climbed back down the tower. Sixty-eight pounds of novice plummeting earthward, unbearably sickening sensations in his gut and in his head.

Even the landing had been cruel. The haystack may as well have been a pile of needles, for the sharp straws greeted his trembling body with a barrage of pinpricks, some drawing tiny dots of blood.

The next time hadn't been much better. Nor the next after that. He'd learned through protracted trial and error how best to arrange his limbs to minimize pain on landing, but the rest of it was still agony. Out of all the exercises Desmond and the other novices were put through on the Farm, this one in particular seemed the most pointless. It might have been more bearable had he understood the purpose of it.

But nothing seemed to have purpose back then. His queries of "Why?" were always met with "Because we're Assassins" and other similarly vague non-answers.

And so he'd eventually left.

The next time he experienced the Leap of Faith, it was performed with the masterful grace of Altaïr, rather than his own stumbling clumsiness. But it was still scary. The fear of the height and the fear of the fall were compounded with fear of Abstergo, of Vidic, of the bizarre machine he'd been forced into.

Ezio injected his own swaggering pride into each Leap. Desmond was a little more used to it by then, but it was still unnerving.

He couldn't say exactly when he'd begun to relish the feeling of wind rushing over his body, of diving fiercely like an eagle swooping down on prey, of landing with a barely audible rustle of leaves. But the fact was he really enjoyed doing Leaps of Faith now.

Apart from mere enjoyment, he also now understood the purpose of it. There was, of course, the purely practical nature of the move- getting from a higher place to a lower one quickly- but it also served as a show of courage to anyone who might be watching, and a test of mettle for the leaper. "Assassins are fearless" was the clear message. In addition, climbing to a high vantage point helped one get the lay of the surrounding land, and locate one's objective more easily.

As he clambered up, Desmond notated these purposes well in his mind, the better to remember them so they could be explained to his son in the future. _Don't want him to run away. Want him to know what being an Assassin is really about. Don't want him to hate me like I hated Dad._ During his descent, he had a brief weird vision of a rebellious teenage Andrew: scowling babyface, hunched shoulders, crystal blue eyes rolling sardonically. _Wait, why am I imagining him with a mullet?_

"You wanna know your time?" Spencer asked hesitantly when Desmond emerged from the leaf pile at last.

"Pff, I know it wasn't as good as usual," Desmond said, twisting and stretching in an attempt to rid himself of a sudden crick in his neck. "Go ahead, let me know just how bad I did."

"Just under three minutes. For reference's sake, I think you used to do around fifty to sixty seconds."

Desmond felt a stab of bitter disgust at how his skills had lapsed. "Cut me a break! Obviously I'm outta practice since I've been on paternity leave!"

Spencer held up his hands. "Hey, I'm just reporting your time, I'm not judging you, man! We all know you been through some rough stuff lately! Your body got put through the wringer!"

"Yes. Yes it did," Desmond said firmly, then turned back to start up the tower again. "Still, three minutes is fucking terrible. I gotta slice that down some."

After dozens of repetitions, he finally reached the point where his time- from touching the tower's first handhold, through the climb and the Leap, to hopping out of the leaves- was a minute forty. "Guess that's good enough for now," he said, brushing debris from his hair. "Damn, I need a trim. It's getting a little too shaggy for my taste."

"Speakin' of hair..." Desmond turned to see Colin approaching them, carrying Andrew. "Li'l Clay A's kinda sheddin' his, have you noticed?"

Desmond blinked. "Clay A?"

"You know, like Clay Aiken, but not."

"Again with the stupid nicknames. Give 'im here." Desmond practically grabbed the baby away. "Can you please not call him that?"

Colin shrugged and nodded in acknowledgement of the request.

"Actually, I don't want anybody to mention anything about his other parent around him."

"What? Why?" Spencer asked.

Desmond frowned slightly. "Well... I want him to just be Andrew."

"But he might not be Andrew," Colin pointed out. "He might be Cl-"

"**Don't!**" Desmond interrupted. "Don't even say his name!"

Spencer chuckled. "Dude, he's not Voldemort, he was one of us, one of the good guys. And he saved your life, in case you forgot."

"Look, I don't want this kid to be him!" Desmond spat, covering Andrew's ears and holding him tightly. "In case **you** forgot, he was a mental case. Yeah, he was super great at hacking and he helped us all out, but he was still a mental case! Even before the Bleeding Effect got him!"

"Dude, I knew him before he went to Abstergo," Spencer interjected, "and he seemed pretty well-adjusted."

"Oh yeah?" Desmond snarled. "Then why do I have all these memories of him going to the shrink for therapy? Look, I'm not trying to badmouth the guy, I'm not saying I don't appreciate his contributions to the cause, I'm just saying I want Andrew to be normal! So, on the off chance- the **incredibly** off chance that Sixteen cloned his brain somehow, maybe we can, y'know, keep him from remembering his previous life, if we just don't talk about him!" He ended his rant there and then took deep breaths to relax his mood, aware that his stress was upsetting Andrew, who was beginning to squirm and make little agitated whines. "Shh, shh, calm down," he whispered, uncovering the baby's ears. "Sorry I got all worked up. Shh... shh..."

"That's kinda harsh, bro," Colin said. "That's basically killin' him, isn't it?"

"Sixteen is already dead," Desmond stated firmly.

"His original body, yeah, but if his mind's inside the body you've named 'Andrew', then he'd still be alive in a manner of speakin'. Even if that mind isn't fully developed yet."

Desmond scowled. "That's insane, Col. Think like this: I used to get crazy episodes where I thought I was Ezio or whoever. When Rebecca and Shaun snapped me out of it, were they 'killing' Ezio? Since his mind was technically extant during the Bleeding Effect?"

"Hmm. You know, I never thought of it like that." Colin rubbed his chin. "Heck of a philosophical conundrum."

Spencer was less concerned with the metaphysics and more concerned with the practical consequences of Desmond's decision. "So, you gonna just raise him up thinking he's only got you as a dad, and not even tell him that Clay exists? Or existed, or whatever?"

"I can raise him how I want, he's **my** kid, remember? I finally got to the point where I'm okay having a kid, and I don't think I could deal with it if he's actually the reincarnation of his own father. That would just edge this situation into 'too crazy for me to handle'."

There was an awkward silence amongst the group for far too long before Colin forced a cough and changed the subject. "Yeah, so, like I was sayin'... I noticed his hair's fallin' out."

Desmond appreciated the topic shift. "Well, that's no biggie, according to what I've read." He ran a finger softly through the thinning locks. "See, that's like, just his starter hair, and some new hair's gonna grow in after it. It might even be a different color."

"Man. That's weird," Spencer said, shaking his head in mild disbelief.

Desmond laughed. "Naw, that's actually one of the least weird things I've seen in a long time. This barely qualifies as weird at all. It's just like how you get baby teeth and then you get normal teeth."

* * *

><p>"You gotta stop shitting so much, kiddo," Desmond chided as he buttoned Andrew's pajamas over a freshly-changed diaper. "Not like I've been keeping count, but I think you're just about coming up on your five hundredth diaper or something, and you're not even a month old."<p>

The baby only coughed in response.

Desmond let out a breath of resignation. "You can't help it, of course. Well... It's about nine o'clock. I've decided that's gonna be your bedtime, all righty? Even if you're not gonna sleep the whole night, I'm gonna put you to bed nine sharp every night." He transferred Andrew from the changing table to the crib.

"You, uh, you want a bedtime story?" Desmond asked, although he obviously didn't expect an answer and was already at his bookshelf. "Ah, here we go. Good ol' Lewis Carroll." He pulled the book out. "This was a present from your uncle Shaun, you know? Well, heh, of course you **don't** know Shaun, he's been out on his mission since before you were born. And of course he's not literally your uncle, 'cause we're not brothers... I mean, I suppose we're like, metaphorically brothers, 'cause we're both in the same Brotherhood. Actually, maybe you do kinda know Shaun already, 'cause one of those books said that unborn babies can distinguish between voices they hear. He's the annoying guy with the British accent."

Andrew coughed again. Desmond chuckled. "I guess that's your way of saying 'Shut up and get to the story already.' All right, then let's get started." He sat on his bed, resting the heavy book on the crib railing. "There's a buncha intro stuff but I'll skip that and get right into chapter one: Down the Rabbit-Hole." He cleared his throat softly and then began to read. "Alice was beginning to get very tired of sitting by her sister on the bank, and of having nothing to do..."

* * *

><p>"...but Alice had got so much into the way of expecting nothing but out-of-the-way things to happen, that it seemed quite dull and stupid for life to go on in the common way. So she set to work, and very soon finished off the cake. And that's the end of chapter one."<p>

Andrew was by now very soundly and adorably asleep. Desmond unconsciously smiled again, replaced _The Complete Works of Lewis Carroll_ on his bookshelf, and then, on a whim, took out the photo album Colin had made.

He flipped lazily through the pages, reminiscing over the various Polaroids of his gravid self. _Heh, no. Not "reminiscing". That implies I was actually enjoying being pregnant. I'm definitely not "reminiscing", just "remembering"._

Turning another page, he came upon the photo of Clay. Of happy, pre-Abstergo, pre-Animus Clay. Desmond glanced briefly back at Andrew. _Am I just being paranoid? What are the chances he's actually got Clay's mind?_ He set down the album on his bed and pondered the possibilities.

_Hypothesis one: Juno got a hold of his DNA and for some insane reason used the Apple to make me pregnant with his kid. Then he'd just be normal, no Clay mind, just some Clay genes._

_Hypothesis two: Juno had nothing to do with it, and Andrew got accidentally conceived when the computer-Clay was doing whatever to save me from the Animus failsafe. I have no idea how the hell getting all Clay's memories and stuff downloaded in my brain would make me grow a uterus, but who the fuck knows, I guess it's possible. Or maybe... I have a bunch of freaky First Civ genes, right? And Rebecca said maybe they could all get pregnant, and didn't have separate genders. Maybe I've **always** had a uterus._ Desmond was more than a little disgusted at the thought. _Damn. So. If I always had a uterus... then Clay's digital DNA got mixed up with my actual physical DNA, and that's how Andrew got made. Same net effect, I guess: normal kid, no Clay mind._

_Hypothesis three..._ Desmond shuddered. _Three is the same as two, except the conception was no accident. Clay did it on purpose. Just like he said. "A way out. Another body."_

_So. The chances are one in three that Andrew's not really Andrew._ Desmond slowly ran a fingernail over Clay's photo. _One in three... and no way to tell whether he is or not until he learns to talk._ He then made a sudden movement, pulling the Polaroid from its plastic sleeve. He almost crumpled it in an angry fist, but then had a change of heart and put it away in the back of his underwear drawer.

Then he returned to browsing the album. That page looked positively naked with the Clay photo gone. Desmond scratched his head, hair newly shorn back to its usual length, then got an idea. He left the room and returned with a small pair of scissors. Gently, slowly, cautiously, he trimmed a few inches of soft beige from the little hair remaining on Andrew's delicate scalp, then slipped the lock into the empty photo sleeve.

Desmond sighed and looked back into the crib. "If you do turn out to be Clay... No." He shook his head resolutely. "No. I'm not going to think about that anymore. Odds are you aren't. Odds are you're just a kid. You're just a normal boy named Andrew Miles." He felt another stab of heavy emotion, and collapsed into bed. "Normal, except you gotta grow up in the Assassin Brotherhood," he whispered. "Sorry 'bout that, kiddo. I know it's not a super fun life. But I'll do what I can to make it easier on you than it was on me."

* * *

><p>Shoutout to my awesome reviewers: Apparition of a Fox, Hack Generation, Elfyliane, and Assassin In Black 1783.<p>

And thanks also to everyone who faves and follows.

FYI: The current plan is for this story to cover the first six or seven years of Andrew's life.


	8. Snark, Squick, and Surprise

August 21, 2013

Rebecca ran a finger over the smoothly sanded edge of the high chair and whistled. "Wow, Bill built this? In addition to making that baby carrier?"

"Yep, turns out Colin isn't the only one with woodworking skills around here," Desmond said, giving the high chair one last jiggle to test its stability before placing Andrew in it. "Pretty slick construction for how fast he made it, huh?" Andrew, it turned out, was as yet unable to sit up on his own, so Desmond quickly picked him back up and kicked the chair into a corner, making a mental note to try again in a couple months.

"Man, he's gonna spoil that kid rotten if he keeps up like this," Rebecca said.

"Well, he's his grampa, so I guess he's permitted to indulge in a little spoilage."

"Oh, yeah." She grinned. "Of course he's permitted. Everything is permitted."

"Yes, I always thought that was a metaphor, but no!" came an exasperated voice from the corridor. "No, literally **everything** is permitted, even bloody men having bloody babies! By immaculate conception, no less!"

"Nice to see you too, Shaun," Desmond said with a smile as the historian entered the kitchen. "See, Andrew, that's the annoying guy I was telling you about the other day."

"Annoying, am I? I doubt I'm half as annoying as the baby."

"Nah, Andrew's not annoying at all. He's pretty awesome actually, he gets that from me. You wanna hold 'im?" Desmond held the boy out toward Shaun, who shrank back slightly.

"No thanks, I don't know where that's been. Wait, strike that! I know **exactly** where it's been! It's been..." He trailed off and made an odd gesture in the air near his crotch.

Desmond's nostrils flared and he pulled Andrew back into a hug. "Dude! Not cool! First off, he's not an 'it', he hasn't been an 'it' for months! And second off, I have fucking **washed** him since he was born, asshole!"

"Oh. Of course." Shaun's expression softened as he realized the undue harshness of his previous words. "Well, at least he did manage to finally **be** born. I'd almost thought you'd-"

"Stay pregnant forever? Heh, I kinda thought so too. But nope, you were just takin' your sweet time, right, li'l guy?" Desmond cooed, nuzzling Andrew's face. "You knew it was a big scary world fulla Templars an' stuff out here, so you didn't wanna come out, huh?" A tiny hand grabbed at Desmond's nose, and he smiled again. "Don' worry, kiddo. I'll keep ya safe. Any Templars wanna get you, they gotta go through your badass daddy first."

Shaun made a strangled sound of nauseation and turned away. "What's your problem?" Rebecca asked him.

"My 'problem' is all that bloody affection." He waved a hand toward Desmond and Andrew. "Positively sickening."

"What, you couldn't deal with me being pregnant and now you can't deal with me loving my kid?" Desmond jeered. "You're such a wuss! Bet you woulda just had a heart attack if you'd been here while I was in labor!"

"Baaah! Don't even mention that, please!" Shaun implored, collapsing into a chair.

Desmond rolled his eyes. "You hearing about it wouldn't be a fraction as bad as what I had to go through actually **doing** it. Gut-wrenching contractions all through the night, and then the fucking pushing stage-"

"I said I don't want to hear it!" Shaun screeched.

"Fine, I'll talk about something else, then." Desmond handed Andrew to Rebecca, got out some formula powder from the cupboard, and started to prepare it. "Tell me, what's it like workin' for the big bad Abstergo?"

"You've had jobs before, haven't you? It's really nothing out of the ordinary. I mean, aside from the exorbitant security measures on the building, the non-disclosure agreements I had to sign, the conversations I'd overhear." Shaun put on a gruff voice to mimic a random Abstergo employee. "'I've been spending too long in my Animus, and it's doing my head in.'"

Desmond gaped. "They've... their own employees are using the Animus?"

Rebecca jumped into the conversation. "Wow, Shaun, that sounds incredible! I can't wait to hear all about it at the briefing this afternoon! But I just remembered Bill wanted to meet with you as soon as you got here, so let's go!" She plopped Andrew back into Desmond's arms, then practically dragged Shaun out of the room.

Desmond watched them leave, his eyes narrowed. "First Dad was acting all weird and evasive, and now them too," he murmured. "If I didn't know better, I'd say they're keeping some secret from me, Andrew. Whatta you think?"

The response was a whimper that almost instantly morphed into a full-out cry.

"Oh shit, sorry, I forgot it's your lunchtime." He picked up the bottle he'd just prepared and shook it to make sure the contents were well-mixed, then began to feed Andrew. "Well, if they're secretly planning another party, I'm fine with that. Dunno what the hell party they'd be planning, though."

He watched in boredom for a few minutes as the formula drained down, then had an epiphany. _Holy shit. I know what they're planning! September first is coming up. It'll be one year since Abstergo got me._ He began to shake with barely contained laughter. _Guess it's like my Assassin anniversary or something. Assassiversary. Fuck of a thing to throw a party over, but whatever!_

"Desmond?"

He looked up to the man who'd just appeared in the kitchen doorway. "Yeah, Dad?"

"Team meeting in approximately ninety minutes."

Desmond fought to keep the stupid smile off his face as he remembered the last "team meeting" he'd been called to, which had turned out to be a baby shower. "A real meeting this time?"

William chuckled ever so softly. "Yes, a real meeting. Mr. Hastings will be giving us a rundown of the Entertainment situation."

"Mm." Andrew finished the bottle and Desmond put him over his shoulder to gently burp him. "I'll be there with bells on."

William squinted at him. "With bells?"

"Never mind. Just an expression. By the way," Desmond waved a hand toward the high chair in the corner. "He's not old enough to use that yet. Can't hold his head up or nothing."

"Oh." William scratched his head. "Sorry about that."

"Heh, don't be sorry. It's cool you built it, we just gotta wait a while for him to, y'know, develop the physical strength to sit upright."

"Ah, of course. Well... we'll see you at the meeting, then."

A slight burp bubbled from Andrew's little throat and Desmond said, "Right. Can't wait to find out the latest dastardly plans we have to foil."


	9. The Big Reveal

A pair of squinting eyes shielded by glass regarded the infant with disdain. "Are you planning to bring that to every meeting?"

"Yes, Shaun, I'm planning to bring **him** to every meeting," Desmond replied coolly. "I can be a dad and an Assassin at the same time."

Shaun sighed resignedly. "Fine. Just make sure he doesn't start crying and whatnot."

"He'll be good," Desmond asserted, patting the tiny baby's back. "He likes being in this carrier, he's always nice and calm when daddy's carrying him, aren't you, kiddo? Aren't you?" He rubbed a finger over Andrew's head and down one chubby cheek. "So, come on Shaun, what's the sitch? I see you got a ugly-ass mug shot of me up on the projector screen for some reason."

"Yes, well, apparently some good Samaritan put up these missing person flyers around your neighborhood after you were kidnapped."

"Oh, that's nice. Fat lot of good it did me though... Hey, wait a goddamn minute!" Desmond's forehead wrinkled and he leant forward to get a better look at the projected image. "Hundred and ninety-five pounds?! That's horseshit! I never weighed anywhere close to that! Who the fuck made this poster? Let's go back to Brooklyn so I can personally kick their ass!"

"Dude, chill out," Spencer said, putting a hand on Desmond's shoulder.

"I bet it was Rafael, he's always pulling stupid shit like this, I bet when I ask him he'll be all like 'oh, sorry mang, I meant to put **two**-ninety-five!' That asshole!"

"Dude, you're upsetting the baby!"

Desmond immediately ceased his tirade and snapped his gaze to Andrew. Sure enough, he looked about to cry. "Oh, geez, don't cry, little guy, I'm sorry, it's just, see that poster up there? Someone told a lie about me, and I don't like that."

"**Anyway**!" Shaun said, louder than necessary. "This is just something we were looking at to kill time before you showed up to the meeting. Let's move on to the main attraction, shall we?" He clicked a remote several times, advancing through a series of images.

Desmond's eyes bugged out upon seeing photos of a blindfolded man being forced into a car. "Woah, stop, wait!" he yelped. "That's me being kidnapped!"

"Indeed it is." Shaun sounded bored.

"Who was taking these pictures and didn't bother to rescue me?!"

"We don't know, Desmond, it doesn't matter."

"How do you not **know**? Where did you even get these pictures anyway?"

"Oh, you know, a little thing I did called 'going on an undercover mission to Abstergo Entertainment'?!"

Desmond blinked in confusion. "Templars took photos of **themselves** kidnapping me? Why would they do that?"

"They're not technically 'photos', they're stills from a surveillance camera, but like I said, it doesn't matter, those files are just filler before the the main attraction. Which is this video." Shaun clicked again and the dimly lit photo of Desmond was replaced by a brilliant white background with four lines of text and an image of the most famous Assassin that ever lived.

Abstergo  
>26 December 2012<p>

Sample 17 Market Analyses #1  
>Altaïr Ibn La'Ahad<p>

An unfamiliar man began speaking. "Our researchers looked into the life of Altair Ibn Lahad, hoping to find a biography that might serve as a positive role model for Abstergo's global outreach programs..."

"Oh shit guys," Desmond blurted, talking over the narration, "did you **hear** how that guy said his **name**?" He cackled for several seconds. "Oh god. 'Awl Tare Iben Lahad'," he imitated the Abstergo employee in an exaggerated Southern drawl while wiping tears from his eyes. "Oh man, I gotta hear that again, rewind it, Shaun, rewind it!"

The other Assassins looked at him sternly as the video played on. "This is no laughing matter, Desmond," William intoned.

"But... Awl **Tare**!" He could barely talk for giggling. "Andrew, did you hear that?" Indeed, the baby had a wide toothless grin.

"You bloody idiot, do you understand what this video **means**?"

He managed to compose himself long enough to reply. "Looks like they're gonna make their next game _The Adventures of Altaïr_. Or rather, _The Adventures of Abbas_, since they have a hate-on for Altaïr."

"You're not the least bit concerned where they're getting the source material from?

Desmond rolled his eyes. "Uh, derrr, from when they kidnapped me and made me relive his shit!"

"You're way off." There was a vicious click from Shaun's remote, and the screen loaded another video.

Desmond idly played with Andrew's hands as he listened and tried not to interrupt this time. "Our initial reports gave us hope that Enzio Auditory would serve us as an ideal candidate for future Abstergo projects. His charisma, sexual magnetism and wry humor gave him all the qualities of a leading man. However, his corruption by the Assassin Order robbed him of these qualities..."

Desmond noticed the guy called his Brotherhood an "Order". He then became distracted with wondering if the Templars called their thing a "Brotherhood". _Guess it would make sense, seeing as how they're convinced they're the good guys. Do they have some twisted version of the Creed too? What do they do for initiation? I'm sure it's not Leaps of Faith... Wait, I know what they do, it's that ring ceremony Haytham did with Charles Lee. Like they were getting gay married or something. Kinda ironic, since I'm pretty sure the Templars are virulently against gay marriage._

"...We have therefore come to the conclusion that Enzio Auditory da Farenze would be a risky character to develop."

"Did you notice he called him **Enzio**?" Desmond said when the video had finished. "This guy can't say **anybody's** name right, can he? It's not that hard, dude: Eh-tsi-o. Al-tie-ear. It's not like Ratonhnha-"

"You're rather missing the point of this presentation, Desmond," Shaun interrupted wearily.

"So Lucy leaked some Animus sessions to Vidic, big deal." He waved a dismissive hand. "Ezio's so last year, why do we care about this **now**?"

"It's not Lucy," William said in a low rumble. "They're getting this data straight from the source. Straight from your DNA."

Desmond blinked. "Get outta town. That's not possible. My DNA's here with **me**, derr! They can't see my ancestors if I'm not in their Anim..." He trailed off and blinked again, then rubbed a hand over his eyes. "Animus. Shit. That's it, isn't it?" he groaned. "The fucking Animus upgrade I've been hearing about, the thing Becca's been working on. Fucking hell..."

He could still recall the panic he'd felt as half a dozen Abstergo "nurses" had wrestled him down on a cold steel examining table so the "doctor" could find a vein to jab a syringe into. "The bastards musta saved my blood from whatever fucked-up medical tests they did." Desmond pulled his hand away from his face and stared at the calloused fingers, imagining the millions upon millions of cells coursing through the vessels within, each holding a microscopically encoded record of his genetic history.

"They saved my blood... and now that's all they need," he said shakily. "That's the reason there's no Subject Eighteen. 'Cause they're not done with Seventeen yet." It was a good thing Andrew was securely held by the carrier, for Desmond's arms were weak as jelly. But not just his arms. His whole body felt jittery and limp, clammy and cold.

"That's correct," William said, and gestured to Shaun, who clicked past a few more files to display a portrait of a grizzly man with a three-day blonde stubble, his upper face mostly shadowed by a dirty-white hood, save for a scarred nose and deadly blue eyes peering out from the darkness.

"Wh- who's this?" Desmond asked, trying to keep his voice controlled.

"The Templars' latest historical target. Edward Kenway. Haytham's father," Shaun said bluntly. "They've got their people at Entertainment syncing through his life, via the 'generous donation' of genetic memories you provided."

"Donation." Desmond barked out a nervous laugh. "Is that what they're calling it? Fuck, that's rich."

Shaun nodded. "Yes, they do love their deceitful cover stories, don't they. To hear them tell it, you donated your body to medical science or somesuch. And then medical science decided to go and make a video game from your ancestry."

"Video game... from my ancestry." Desmond, oddly enough, felt even more exploited by this than by the kidnapping.

"That's what Entertainment thinks they're working on, a pirate-themed videogame," Rebecca said. "With accompanying movie tie-in." She grabbed the remote from Shaun and flicked expertly through the slideshow to another video.

A husky-voiced man began narrating in an incredibly cliché movie-trailer tone. "In a world... where pirates rule the waves... these men will discover... that nothing is sacred... and everyone is committed... to **rum**!"

Shaun wrested the remote back from Rebecca and muted the video.

Watching Edward silently wreak his havoc on the high seas, Desmond felt like he was in some weird dream. The situation was made all the more surreal when Andrew chose that moment to fart.

Shaun pinched his nose and waved a hand through the air. "Uck, Desmond, what in the world are you feeding him?"

"Just formula, what the fuck else?"

Shaun gagged. "Cripes, let's get through this meeting real quick-like, before he lets loose any more of those, shall we?"

Desmond chuckled. "Dude, you should smell his dirty diapers, his farts are nothing compared to that!"

"It's true, his diapers are really super rank," confirmed Spencer.

"Ah-hem!" William coughed loudly. "Can we stick to the subject at hand, please?"

"Right!" Shaun turned back to face the projector screen, flipping through more videos and images. "Anyway! Long story short, the game's not their ultimate goal."

"Although they do hope to turn a tidy profit on it," Rebecca said.

"Yes, well, what they're really looking for is this: the Observatory." Shaun stopped the slideshow on a screen displaying a scrap of parchment. On it were geometric designs Desmond recognized as the same patterns he'd seen in the Grand Temple and in the vault under that Italian church. But there was also the unfamiliar outline of some sort of mechanism composed of weird concentric circles.

"Yet another First Civ thingy my ancestor got mixed up with? What does this one do?"

"See that?" Shaun had a laser pointer now, and he circled a red dot around something in the middle of the mechanism. "That there is a Crystal Skull."

"Seriously?" Desmond asked. "Like in Indiana Jones? That thing's real?"

"Yeah, it's real," Spencer answered darkly. "As in, we'll be in real trouble if the Templars get their mitts on it. It's a spying machine, and they can use it with your DNA," here he pointed at Desmond to make it clear that he wasn't using "you" in the generic sense, "to see where you are and what you're doing."

"Shit." Desmond seemed to suddenly realize something, and he cast his gaze around the table at the other Assassins. "You guys all knew this already. This is the big secret you been keeping from me."

William exhaled. "Yes, Desmond. We kept this from you until now."

"God dammit. And here I thought you were planning another big stupid party." Desmond shot a death glare at his father. "Why wouldn't you tell me something like this?!"

"We wanted to wait until we were sure we had a full grasp of the situation," William said, impossibly calm. "To be sure this wasn't a ruse. And... we didn't want to place you under undue stress."

"Oh, I see." Desmond curled an arm stiffly around Andrew. "Because I had a baby, you didn't think I could handle this Assassin stuff anymore? Did you treat Mom like this too, after I was born?"

"That is a completely different situa-"

"Answer the question, Dad!" he demanded. "Did you treat her like a delicate little flower who might just faint if she heard that Templars were doing Templar-y things like they always do?"

Shaun slammed his hands on the table. "Can you two have your row later please?! **After** the meeting?!"

All the noise got to be too much for Andrew and he started to wail.

"Bloody hell," Shaun sighed. "Desmond, please shut him up so I can get through the rest of my presentation."

Desmond scowled down at the baby. As if the crying wasn't bad enough, his nose was running too. "Ugh. I'll be right back." He stood up and stormed out of the room.

"Stupid Juno fucking over my life," he grumbled, rummaging through a supply cabinet to find a pack of tissues. "Maybe that's why she knocked me up, so I can't be an Assassin anymore, bitch. I'll show her, I'll be even more of a badass. I'll find her and I'll kick her non-corporeal ass." He wiped the snotty mess from Andrew's nose. "All right, buster, now what do I gotta do to make you stop crying?"

"Try singing that song again." Desmond spun around to see Rebecca. "That Italian one. Stellalina or whatever."

"Stella, stellina? You heard me singing that?"

"Yeah. It was totes adorb."

Desmond glowered at her. "So not only are you guys keeping secrets from me, you're eavesdropping on me too."

Rebecca cupped a hand to her ear. "What?" It seemed she couldn't hear him over Andrew's cries.

Desmond's whole body was stiff with anger. _Fuck, that stupid lullaby's in my head again now, goddamn Bleeding Effect, why did I even remember that song in the first place, I haven't synced Ezio in forever and I sure as hell never synced any memories of his parents singing him to sleep, goddammit Andrew shut up!_

Rebecca grabbed another tissue and dabbed at Andrew's tears. "C'mon, li'l guy. Stellina, stellina, la noche babba tina, la fimama travana-"

Desmond cut her off. "Shit, Becca, that is **so** not how it goes! That's not even Italian, that's just gibberish!"

"You sing it then!"

He pouted for a few more seconds, then began to grumble the words through gritted teeth. "Stella, stellina. La notte si avvicina. La fiamma traballa. La mucca nella stalla." Unconsciously, he'd started to pat Andrew's back rhythmically. "La mucca e il vitello. La pecora e l'agnello." Though he wasn't trying to "sing" it, the melody behind the syllables was emerging nevertheless.

Rebecca suppressed a grin as she watched Desmond's rage slowly diffuse. Andrew's cries were fading away as well.

"La chioccia con il pulcino. Ognuno ha il suo bambino. Ognuno ha la sua mamma." He made a soft involuntary sniffling sound, then continued. "Salvo Andrew, che ha il suo papino. E tutti fanno la nanna."

The boy was now quiet, gazing reverently up at him. "Huh. That easy, huh?" He wiped a few residual tears from Andrew's cheeks. "Sorry. I... sorry."

"By the way..." Rebecca said, beckoning him to follow her back to the meeting. "Why did you think we were planning a party?"

"Well... September first's coming up," he said lamely.

"September first. So?"

Desmond shook his head and smiled at Andrew. "Yeah, I know it's stupid, but I thought you were gonna celebrate my, uh, Assassiversary."

"Assassiversary. Huh." She opened the meeting room door and followed Desmond in.

"Are we ready to continue?" Shaun asked in his characteristic acid tone. "Can we finish up without either of you throwing another strop?"

"Whatever." Desmond slumped back into his chair, then turned to address his father. "So this is what you meant, huh? When you said I'll never hafta go in the Animus again?"

William made a small movement as if to pat Desmond's shoulder, but then put his hand back on the table instead. "That's correct. The upgrades we're performing on our Animus will allow anyone to relive your genetic memories."

"So you guys can get Bleeding Effects instead of me. Fan-fucking-tastic."

"We'll go in shifts, so none of us has too much exposure," William said. "Obviously."

Rebecca nodded. "Yeah, and I'm gonna import the sync data from Julia's sessions-"

"Who's Julia?"

"Oh, sorry," Rebecca said. "Julia's the Abstergo employee that's been syncing Edward, the one who's been hacking their servers to bring us this intel."

"Mm. You sure we can trust her? Remember the last time we trusted an Abstergo employee?" Desmond said pointedly.

"That's a risk we'll have to take, Desmond!" Shaun said. "We cannot let the Templars get to that skull! And besides, this is not the same situation as with Lucy." He ticked off points on his fingers. "A: She's not a Templar, she only works for their subsidiary. B: She doesn't know where we are, so she can't rat us out. And C: did I mention we **can't let the Templars get that skull?**"

"Okay, geez, you don't have to yell. Calm down or you'll freak out my kid again."

"Ahem." Rebecca cleared her throat. "I was saying: I'll import Julia's sync data, so we'll be continuing from the same point in history where Abstergo's already gotten to, instead of starting from scratch. If we all go in shifts like Bill said, we should have no trouble finding out where the Observatory is before they do."

"And then what?" asked Spencer. "We go burn it down? It's First Civ, I don't think it'll be that easy to destroy. They're kinda known for their stuff being pretty durable. And I've heard some nasty tales about that place's built-in security. As in, 'people get killed just going in' nasty."

"We can at least remove the skull, if nothing else," Shaun said. "At any rate, we've got to locate the place first, so let's focus on that part for now, right?" He clicked again to display what looked like a travel itinerary. "In other news, Olivier Garneau, the head honcho at Entertainment, is scheduled to attend a, ahem, 'shareholder's meeting'- read 'Templar pow-wow'- in Chicago early September." He looked to William.

"Mm. That den is a little busy with local affairs these days, but I'll send a message advising them to keep an eye on Mr. Garneau."

"I was rather hoping for 'assassinate', not 'keep an eye on', but then again, it's not up to me, because I'm not the Mentor, am I?" Shaun asked rhetorically. "Well, that about wraps things up here, I think. Meeting adjourned."

The group began to disperse. Desmond got up and stood behind Shaun as he shut down the projector system. "You gonna stay here a while, or head straight back to Montreal?"

"I need to check up on my email and do a few other things around here, but I'll be leaving tomorrow."

"Oh. Thanks for the book, by the way."

"Book? What book?"

"_Complete Works of Lewis Carroll_, you know, the one you gave me while I was pregnant."

"Oh, right, of course," Shaun said, conspicuously not making eye contact.

"He seems to really like it."

"Er. I'm glad."

Desmond smirked. "And by 'he' I mean the kid I was pregnant with."

Shaun shuddered.

"See, Andrew, Shaun's not so bad, once you know how to push his buttons. Speaking of pushing, man, that was a hell of an experience."

Shaun flipped him off, but in a good-natured way, if that makes any sense, and then hastily left the room.

* * *

><p><em>"millions upon millions of cells coursing through the vessels within, each holding a microscopically encoded record of his genetic history." - Science note: This isn't completely accurate. Platelets and red blood cells don't contain DNA, since they don't have a nucleus. It'd be only the white blood cells the Templars could use to get at his genetic memories. Desmond doesn't know that, though, he's no cell biologist.<em>


	10. Papino Protettivo

August 25, 2013

Rebecca was so hard at work with the Animus code that she didn't even notice Desmond come in until he startled her by tapping her on the shoulder.

"Gah!" She jerked in surprise, hitting some keys by accident, then growled in frustration and backspaced the error away. "You should learn to turn off your stealth sometimes, Des."

"Hey, I wasn't trying to sneak up on you, honest."

She turned her chair around to face him, and also Andrew, whom he was carrying in his arms. "You need something?"

"I just wanted to see how that Animus stuff is coming along."

"You know, it's really not as tough as I'd thought it'd be," Rebecca said, turning back to the keyboard quickly to save her work. "Reliving someone else's ancestors is a major paradigm shift, but the coding changes actually aren't too radical. Already commented out the functions that check user DNA against the source file, and now I'm finishing up with adjustments to the sync algorithms and stimulus event handlers."

"Uh-huh," Desmond said, putting up a pretense that he'd understood her technical jargon.

"Then I'm gonna run a final debug. Should have it up and running by tomorrow morning." She turned to face Desmond again. "Who d'ya think should be the first guinea pig on this new setup?"

He thought for a brief moment before answering. "Dad, I guess. He's the only other one of us who's ever even been in an Animus before. I mean, it was a hell of a shock to the system the first time I used the thing. So, he'll at least be kinda used to it? Maybe?"

"Hmm. Good idea," Rebecca said, "but that wouldn't be a proper test of allogenetic syncing."

"Of what now?" Oops, there went the pretense of understanding.

"Allogenetic syncing," she repeated. "Reliving memories from someone else's genes. The Kenways are on Bill's side of your family tree, so him being able to relive those memories wouldn't tell me anything about whether this new functionality works."

"Oh. Right, derr." Desmond scuffed his shoe idly along one of the floor tiles. "Well, I dunno, then. I would say **you **should go in, 'cause you know how everything works, but you probly wanna be the one monitoring whoever it is, so. Eh."

Rebecca shrugged. "We'll just go in alphabetical order then. That makes Colin first."

Just then, Andrew sneezed, the involuntary motion jerking his whole head forward and back.

"Aw, how cuuuute!" Rebecca squealed. She got up from her chair to observe the cuteness more closely. "Where's his carrier?"

"In his room- fff- I mean in **our** room. I just..." Desmond broke eye contact with her, looking down at his little boy. "I dunno, I like to actually hold him sometimes. The carrier's nice and all, for when I need to use my hands, but, y'know, actually holding him... It's a whole 'nother feeling. It's like we're more connected this way, y'know?" Then he smirked. "Geez. I'm getting all sentimental and crap. Promise me something, Becca?"

"What?"

"If you hear me using baby talk, slap me upside the head, all right?"

"Whaaat?"

"You heard me. All the hugging and holding stuff is one thing, but baby talk, y'know, 'ohh you're such a wuvey widdle babykins, wet's changey your diapey', that sort of nonsense..." He trailed off and shook his head. "Fucking stupid."

Rebecca shrugged. "Whatever you say, Dadmond."

Before he could protest the nickname, Andrew sneezed again, and Desmond's mood shifted to concern. "Aw, geez. All day he's been doing that. Sneezing at random times. I better take him to Stacey, get this checked out."

* * *

><p>"I think his nostrils were just a bit clogged," Stacey said. "Nothing to worry about."<p>

Desmond furrowed his brow at this. "You **think**."

Stacey passed Andrew back to him. "Well, it might be a very mild cold. He doesn't have a fever or anything, though, so I doubt it."

"Well... You're sure it's not asthma or something chronic like that?" Desmond thought of little sickly Petrucchio Auditore.

"I don't think so?" Stacey said, sounding way too unsure for Desmond's comfort. "At his age, diagnosing something like that would be hard."

He sighed and looked down at Andrew. "Well, if he's asthmatic or whatever, I guess there's nothing I can do about it, huh? Serves me right, I probly caused it."

"Caused it? How would you have caused it?"

Desmond's mouth pulled tight into an almost-frown. "You know. From, like, something I did before he was born. Probly the drinking."

"You had one beer, okay? I don't think one beer-"

"It wasn't just one beer!" he cut in. "We went to some bar in São Paulo, and I had a couple of those lime green deals, those caiper-whatevers."

"Oh. Well, that was before you knew you were pregnant."

"No duh, but I still was."

"Relax, Desmond," she said with a smile. "Andrew seems perfectly healthy, so there's no point in beating yourself up about what you drank before he was born."

Desmond was silent a moment, gently bobbing his arms up and down, eliciting burbles of amusement from Andrew. "Well... maybe we'll be lucky and the booze won't have affected him... Or maybe we won't be lucky and he'll turn out autistic or something."

She shrugged. "It's possible, but I don't think prenatal alcohol exposure causes autism. I think it's genetic."

"Argh. Of course it is. Everything's about genes, isn't it. Genes, genes, genes, the cause of every problem in my life. Well, thanks for your time. See you at his one-month checkup. " Desmond got up and started to leave.

"I'm glad you decided to love him, Desmond."

He paused in the doorway. "I didn't really decide that, Stacey. Sure, I decided to keep him and take care of him... But the 'love' part..." He turned around, revealing a smile budding across his face. "That just happened spontaneously."

* * *

><p>August 26, 2013<p>

The first trial of the allegenetic syncing function drew an anxious audience that nearly filled the Animus workroom. This would be the first time Desmond saw the Animus in action from this side of things. He eyed Rebecca's multi-monitor setup with newfound fascination. One screen displayed a jumble of code alongside a DNA timeline, which looked different than any of the ones he'd navigated, but was still recognizable as such. A second screen was blank save for the words "NO MEMORY IN PROGRESS", and a third screen had a program running to monitor Colin's vital signs.

"Sure hope this works," Spencer said. "Don't want to have to go break into Abstergo again."

Desmond looked at him quizzically. "Huh? Why would we hafta do that?"

Rebecca answered for him. "We thought we'd have to steal those blood samples, because your DNA might not have Edward's memories anymore since Juno fucked around with it, but actually I was able to sidestep that whole issue." She tapped a finger on the timeline screen to point out the words "MilesDesmond. ddna" near the top. "I pulled the backup file from when you were reliving Ezio, which is built off your pre-pregnant DNA, so we're using that as the source."

"Nifty." Desmond shifted in his seat and adjusted Andrew in his arms. "What's the extra D for?"

Rebecca shrugged. "I didn't invent the extension. You'd have to ask Vidic."

"But he's dead now," Colin said cheerily from the Animus chair. "So I guess we'll never know the secret of the extra D."

"Enough talk," William said. "Every minute we waste is another minute Abstergo's getting ahead of us."

"Let's get to it, then," Rebecca said. "Right, Col, keep your head still, I'll make sure the system has a good connection."

Colin gulped quietly and stared at the ceiling. Desmond watched a bead of sweat run down his face. Then his eyes went unfocused and an image loaded on the previously-blank monitor.

"Everything seems to be in order. How d'ya feel?" Rebecca asked.

Onscreen, Colin's avatar looked around the white room, then down at his hands. Meanwhile, in the real world, his body remained motionless, except his mouth, which said, "This is bizarre."

"You get used to it," Desmond said, then chuckled when Colin's avatar looked up into the "sky" in a vain attempt to locate the speaker. "You get used to hearing voices outta nowhere too."

"Just so long as you don't start hearing voices after you exit the thing," Spencer said.

"He shouldn't," said William. "None of us should, as long as we stick to the three-hour limit. And need I remind you, that's a **firm** limit. No exceptions, do you hear me, Miss Crane?"

"Not gonna happen, I promise," Rebecca said, crossing her fingers over her heart. "Okay, let's start you off with a training sequence so you can get your bearings before we jump into Edward."

The white void onscreen was replaced by silvery walls. Desmond recognized this as the same thing he'd gone through before the first memory of Haytham.

"Make your way to the marker... okay, now try climbing these objects... whoops, no prob, Col, just try it again," she said with a smile when he lost his grip and fell.

"C'mon, dude, you know how to climb!" Desmond mock-taunted him.

"I know, but in here it's... it's not the same... it's bizarre!"

Colin eventually got past the climbing portion and the freerunning portion. "Next up, we got some enemies to assassinate," said Rebecca as two foppish-looking guards in tricorn hats materialized a short distance away from him.

Colin gulped again. "Oh boy."

"It's just like in real life, Col," Desmond said.

"I've never done it in real life!"

Desmond blinked. "Well... there's a first time for everything, isn't there, Andrew?"

Spencer gave Desmond an odd look. "Why you asking him?"

"'Cause talking to your baby helps him learn to talk faster," Desmond said, as if it should have been obvious.

William snapped his fingers impatiently. "Let's focus, please. Mr. McCorquodale, you've got a Hidden Blade in there, correct?"

Colin's avatar looked down at his wrist. "Oh. So I do. Was that there before?"

"Who cares, you've got it now," Desmond said. "Just use those sneaky sneaking skills of yours and stab those dudes before they even know you're there."

Colin flexed his wrist to test the mechanism, seemingly surprised when it worked and the blade actually shot out. "Well, here I go." Without retracting the blade, he slowly sidled up to one of the virtual guards, held his breath, and thrust his arm out, slicing through the dirty yellow uniform and staining it with red.

"Way to go, Col!" hooted Rebecca.

Both Colin's avatar and his actual body smiled ecstatically.

Andrew made a small gurgling sound and a brief thought flitted through Desmond's mind about whether it was appropriate for a baby to witness people being killed, even virtually. "I, uh... I'm gonna go put Andrew down for a nap."

"Don't go!" shouted Colin. "I might need more of your Animus Expert advice!"

"You'll be fine," Desmond assured him. "But here's one last tip: Your yelling just alerted that other guard."

Colin spun around and put up his arm just in time to deflect a sword with the bracer of his Hidden Blade. "Fuck! Help!"

"He's left his gut exposed, get 'im there!" Spencer said, jabbing a finger on the screen.

"Hands off the hardware!" Rebecca yanked Spencer's arm away as Colin socked the guard in the stomach. The punch was weak, but in this practice program, the foes were weak too, and he staggered backward hyperbolically, affording Colin the opportunity to land another fatal blow with his Hidden Blade.

Desmond covered Andrew's innocent blue eyes and pulled himself away from the Animus room with a touch of regret. "C'mon kiddo, let's go do something more age-appropriate," he said quietly. "How about more _Alice in Wonderland_, huh? What weird hijinks is she gonna get up to next?"


	11. Enigma

**_ 'If everybody minded their own business,' the Duchess said in a hoarse growl, 'the world would go round a deal faster than it does.'_**

**_ 'Which would not be an advantage,' said Alice, who felt very glad to get an opportunity of showing off a little of her knowledge. 'Just think of what work it would make with the day and night! You see the earth takes twenty-four hours to turn round on its axis—'_**

**_ 'Talking of axes,' said the Duchess, 'chop off her head!'_**

"Woah," Desmond said with a start. "I forgot this story gets a little violent at times." He chewed his tongue for a moment, contemplating. "Well, I guess reading you acts of literary violence is a bit more palatable than having you see acts of visual violence. An' I'll give you a little spoiler here, kiddo." He dropped his voice to a conspiratorial stage whisper. "Alice **doesn't** get her head chopped off."

"Are you two all right?" came William's voice softly from the bedroom door.

Desmond turned to face him. "Yeah, we're good. He's asleep. Or nearly asleep. I mean, it's a little hard to tell, but either way, he's all calm and quiet."

"You left rather abruptly."

"Well sorry, but I thought babies shouldn't see people getting killed," Desmond said, a little snidely. "Might give him nightmares or something."

"Ah, all right." William rubbed his neck stiffly.

Desmond marked where he'd stopped in the book and then set it back on the shelf. "Did the new code work? Was Colin able to get into my ancestor's memories?"

"Miss Crane said the, ah, neural refresh rate is a little slower than usual, but other than that, yes, it's working properly."

Desmond cracked a slight smile. "You don't know what the neural refresh rate even is, do you?"

"Not really, nor do I need to," was the brusque reply.

"It's the rate of how fast the system is tracking the user's brain activity. A faster NR rate makes the memory seem more real," Desmond explained.

"Hm," William said, sounding impressed. "I didn't know you were so knowledgeable about the technical aspects of the Animus."

"I know some of the basics, at least. Rebecca was teaching me, remember? Earlier this year, before... y'know." Desmond's posture sagged a little. "Before I got sidetracked with poking around Andrew's DNA to find out his other dad." He turned his head and looked back at the sleeping child. "An' after that, I was too busy getting all prepared for..." he paused heavily before saying the momentous word, "fatherhood."

William took his shoulder gently. "Let's talk in the hall, so we don't wake him."

Desmond nodded and they left the room. "I dunno why I was so obsessed with finding out whose he is. Now that I know... It's like..." He rubbed a hand over his forehead, at a loss for words.

William went ahead and stated the obvious. "You're not thrilled about it being Kaczmarek."

Desmond pursed his lips and shoved his hands in his pockets. "Well, it's not like I'm **mad** that it turned out to be Clay, it's just... I never expected it. I always was thinking it was gonna be Lucy, Becca, or Shaun, 'cause they were actually there. Honestly, I was hoping for one of the girls. It'd be, I dunno... less gay that way." He chuckled ruefully. "Yeah, how's that for irony? The man with a vagina, worried about things being gay."

William had no ready response to this, other than to tap his fingers uneasily against his pant leg.

Desmond sighed. "But really, I think I'm actually okay with Clay being his dad. As long as that's all he is." He paused a few beats. "I mean, there are worse alternatives. Until that test Stacey did proved he was human, I seriously thought I had Juno's baby inside'a me. And that, I would have been **really** mad about."

"We're all glad it didn't turn out that way, Desmond."

"Yeah." He snapped his fingers. "Oh, I got some more diapers outside soaking in the wash. You promised you'd help me wash 'em. Come on."

* * *

><p>"Where do you think she is right now?"<p>

William looked up from the diaper he was fretting across the scrub board, giving Desmond a perplexed look.

"Juno, I mean," he clarified. "You heard any chatter on where she might be hiding out?"

William shook his head. "We haven't a clue. Not a peep from her- or any other Precursors, for that matter- since last year. Mr. Vermaak and I visited the Grand Temple in July and she didn't seem to be there anymore." He held out a sopping wet diaper.

Desmond took it and wrung it out, then hung it on the line. "Hm. My saving the planet was supposed to let her loose into the world, and she sounded like she was planning to fuck humanity's shit over the second she got out... But then again, saving the planet was supposed to kill me, too."

William frowned at the icky wash water and scrubbed harder on a particularly set-in stain.

"And that obviously didn't happen either. It just burned the shit outta my skin." Desmond held up his right arm to illustrate the point. "One scarred up arm. Billions of lives saved. And, apparently, zero ancient evils unleashed. It feels... not right, y'know? I'm kinda waiting for the other shoe to drop."

"Mm. Perhaps Andrew has something to do with it," William said. "He could be another wrinkle in the prophecy."

Desmond pulled another wet diaper from the tub and hung it up. "Well, maybe. I hope not. But then again... That encoded file from Clay..."

"Hm?"

"He said a lot of bizarre things in there. Things that only made sense in hindsight. Like, 'She is not who you think she is'. Turns out that meant Lucy was a Templar. And 'Find me in the darkness' was about him planning to help me outta my coma."

"Hm."

"Another thing he said was, 'The sun. Your son.' So... the sun in the sky, that almost killed the planet," Desmond pointed upwards unnecessarily, "and my son," here he pointed to his abdomen, "the kid I was days away from being knocked up with."

"You think there's some connection."

"That what it sounds like to me. But fuck if I know the details of it. I woulda liked to ask him what all that shit meant, but the stupid Animus deleted him before I had the chance." Desmond shrugged. "Guess it doesn't matter now. There's not gonna be another solar flare like that for another majillion years, right?"

"It was no mere 'solar flare', Desmond," William said. "Solar flares happen on a daily basis with no ill effects to the planet. The event was something of far greater magnitude than-"

"Whatever!" Desmond spat. "What was it then?"

"...I'm not sure there's actually a defined term."

"Well then I'm gonna say 'solar flare', 'cause that's hella lot easier than saying 'big explodey space thing that could kill 98% of the human race.'"

There was silence for a long while after that, save for the soft splashing of water in the washtub and the intermittent sounds of ambient nature.

"Tell me something, Desmond... Is it true that you forget about the labor pain when you, ah, meet your child?"

"Ba-ha-hahaa!" Desmond cackled, not even caring that his hand was still wet as he slapped his knee in amusement. "Where the hell'd you get that idea?"

"A doctor at the School. She's delivered children, and she's had children of her own, so I went to her for a little advice while I was there."

"Well, either she's lying through her teeth, or I'm an exception to the rule, because I **definitely** remember that shit."


	12. Dangerously Sentimental

August 28, 2013

"Good morning Desmond! Good morning Andrew!"

Desmond winced at Rebecca's sing-song greeting, an artificially high-pitched chirp that grated on his ears. "Can you just talk normal, please? I kinda got a headache."

She frowned. "Oooh, poor widdle head. Did you not sleep good or something?"

"Of course I didn't sleep good, didn't you hear all this guy's stupid crying?" He gestured to Andrew in the carrier, who was still making intermittent whiny squeals.

"Hey, don't call your kid stupid."

"I called his **crying **stupid, not him," Desmond retorted, grabbing a can of powder and a bottle from the cupboard as the baby's cries increased in volume. "Shut up, okay, I know you're hungry, look, I'm making your breakfast now!" He hastily mixed up a batch of formula, spilling a little on the counter by accident, then thrust the bottle in Andrew's mouth, but he just spit out the nipple and kept crying.

Desmond sighed. "Shit, sorry, I forgot you don't like it cold." He set about heating the bottle in a saucepan of water on the stove.

"Microwave would be faster," Rebecca suggested.

"Microwave isn't baby-safe," Desmond answered instantly, rubbing Andrew's back in an attempt to soothe him. "It'd get too hot and burn up his mouth. Plus the bottle would melt or leak or degrade or some shit."

"Oh. Huh."

"Parenting isn't easy, there's all sorts of little things like that you gotta know," Desmond continued, pouring himself a bowl of cereal with his free hand. "Like, you're not supposed to let him sleep with a blanket until he's one, 'cause he could suffocate. And you gotta be careful of overfeeding him, 'cause his stomach's super tiny. But underfeeding is a danger, too, 'cause his metabolism's super fast at this age. Parenting isn't easy at all," he reiterated. "It's a miracle humanity ever survived this long."

"Well, even though it's not easy, you're doing an awesome job at it," Rebecca said with a smile.

Desmond shrugged. "Thanks, I guess. I'm really just doing what the book says, honestly."

"So, does the book say when he's gonna start talking?" she asked, an eager glint in her eyes.

"Heh, not for a long time. Like around one year or so, probably."

"Aw."

The conversation trailed off, leaving the kitchen silent except for Andrew's sad sounds, the slight bubbling of stovetop water, and the clinking of plates and silverware as the adults ate. After a few minutes, Desmond removed the bottle from the pan and tested the temperature of a drop on his wrist. Satisfied that it was neither too hot nor too cold, he removed his son from the carrier and began to feed him. Andrew accepted the bottle this time, greedily sucking down the contents.

"What's going on with my ancestor? Anywhere close to finding out where that crystal skull is?"

"Doesn't seem like it," answered Rebecca, standing up to clear away her dishes. "Edward's on a quest to find the Observatory and profit from it somehow, but he keeps getting sidetracked with pirate shenanigans. Last memory we synced was him assassinating this French Templar, Julien du Casse." She chuckled slightly. "Although I dunno if you can really call it 'assassinating', since Edward's not an Assassin yet. He just killed the guy to steal his ship and save his own ass."

"Hold up, you say he wants to **sell** the Observatory?"

"Yeah. Getting rich is kind of his thing. That's why he took a vacation from his wife to go pirating."

"Mmph," Desmond grunted. "Sounds like a swell dude. But you say he does eventually shape up and join the Brotherhood?"

"Yeah, well, even being an Assassin doesn't prevent you from being a dick. Case in point: Altaïr."

One of Desmond's eyes twitched. "Hey, I'm sure you've got lots of asshole ancestors, too! And Altaïr became cool later on!"

"All right, all right, sheesh."

Andrew finished the bottle and Desmond put him back in the carrier as Rebecca finished cleaning up her meal. "You need anything before I head off to set up the Animus for Spencer's sesh?"

"Well, how about you tell me when my 'sesh' is scheduled? We're all taking turns, right?"

Rebecca shook her head. "I had to really twist Bill's arm to let you take all that extra Animus time for your paternity search, but now that that's over, he's cracking down. Says he doesn't want you in it ever again."

"What the fuck, why?"

"Isn't it obvious? You've racked up well over a thousand hours in there and he's worried about your brain."

"My brain is fine!" Desmond seethed. "I haven't had a Bleeding Effect in forever! Not since your crazy Poland update, and that doesn't count!"

"Doesn't count?" Rebecca smirked. "When did we decide that?"

"It's obvious that one doesn't count! 'Cause it was **your fault**!" Seemingly sensitive to his father's upset mood, Andrew started to whine again, so Desmond patted his back some more and forced his voice to calm down again. "It only happened 'cause you screwed up the code and made the memories go too fast."

Rebecca winced. "Okay, yeah, it was my fault, sorry. But even if we discount that one, it still hasn't been 'forever'. Remember you slipped into Italian during labor?"

"That shouldn't count either. I..." Desmond's mouth curled in a deep frown, trying to think of a rationale. "I... It's like Stacey said, I was stressed. I must have been remembering Ezio's birth."

"Sorry, bud, I think that one still counts." Rebecca gave him an apologetic smile. "Anyway, it's not up to me. Your dad's calling the shots."

"Worst. Dad. Ever," Desmond spat. "I told him I wanna keep being helpful, keep being an Assassin, but no! I'm not allowed on missions anymore and neither am I allowed in the Animus, even though I'm probably way better at it than any of you guys."

"Come on, you know he's just looking out for you." Rebecca patted Desmond's shoulder. "You don't wanna end up like Sixteen."

Desmond stood up and away from her touch. "He has a name."

"I thought you didn't want us to mention his name around Andrew."

Desmond facepalmed. "Fine, whatever. Okay, I don't wanna end up like him. But I still think it wouldn't hurt for me to take a turn in there along with all you guys. I mean, we're trying to find this Observatory as fast as we can, right? But each of us is only allowed three hours at a time, so the more people we have syncing Edward's life, the faster those three-hour sessions can get through it, right?"

"I suppose-" Rebecca began slowly, but Desmond cut her off.

"And I'm the 'Animus Expert' plus I'm his actual descendant so I can probably sync the guy a whole lot faster."

"Okay, I get the drift! Still, it's not up to me, man. You'll have to convince Bill." She smiled again. "And when you do, you might try not to sound so much like an Animus junkie craving another hit. 'Cause that's kinda the vibe you're giving me here."

"Heh." Desmond had to chuckle at that. "Thanks for the tip."

She looked at her watch. "Now I really gotta get a move on, Spencer's probably in the chair already waiting for me to load the memory."

"Oh hey," Desmond called, following her down the hall. "Do you have some way of printing photos off your computer?"

Rebecca turned back with a quizzical look.

"'Cause, uh, I got some from my phone I wanna put in that album."

"But it's... supposed to be a baby album?" Rebecca said, tilting her head at him.

"I know." Desmond smiled awkwardly and toyed with Andrew's hands. "He, uh. He's inside me in some of those pics. Even though I didn't know yet. Heh."

Rebecca snorted. "Oookay. Drop off your phone and tell me which files, then, and I'll see about printing 'em."

* * *

><p>Not ten minutes later he came by the Animus room, grinning broadly, phone in hand. "Okie doke, the password's 1459 and the photos I want printed are any ones with me or Dad in 'em."<p>

Without looking up from monitoring Spencer's session, Rebecca held out her hand to take the phone. "Why your dad?"

Desmond shrugged. "I figure I need a few pics of his grampa. I'm gonna ask Dad for pics of Mom too."

"Wow, you're going all out. Really getting into this whole album thing, huh?"

He nodded enthusiastically. "I'm thinkin' of putting little notes on each picture, too. From me to Andrew, y'know? Like, there's that selfie I took while I was on the skyscraper, I'm thinkin' something like 'Here's your badass Daddy, mere minutes before his faceoff against an insane Master Templar! PS: Now I know I wasn't dizzy from the height, it was from you messing with my hormones and stuff.'"

"You don't think it'll freak him out? All the dangerous stuff you did while he was a fetus?"

"Of course not," Desmond scoffed. "Because I was awesome enough to avoid any injury, so he was fine! I mean, his whole family's Assassins, so he's gotta get used to the idea of danger, right?" His voice wobbled a bit. "Shit, I just got this mental image of him out on some mission. Shiiit."

Rebecca smirked. "Don't get ahead of yourself, bud, he won't be going on any missions for a long, **long** time."

"Hah. Yeah. Of course." Desmond laughed nervously and looked down at the baby, almost-asleep in his carrier, and tried, for now at least, not to imagine him as a grown Assassin, with all that that entailed.

* * *

><p>Author's Note: Remember <em>Alphabetical Initiation<em>, the ABC book for kids of Assassins, from _Kryptokos_? It'll show up again in this fic. I currently have the following letters finalized: A, B, C, D, F, H, I, K, M, N, O, Q, V, and W, but I'm putting out a call for ideas for example sentences for the other letters. **Leave your ideas in the comments, I'd love to see them and possibly use them in later chapters :D**


	13. Memos

"Hey, Dad?"

"Mm?" William looked up from his computer to see his son and grandson, inseparable as always.

Desmond gave him an easygoing smile. "You busy?"

"Not particularly," the elder Assassin admitted, gesturing to the screen. "I was just perusing some memos from our people in Moscow."

Desmond was a teensy bit curious as to what sort of stuff the Russian wing of the Brotherhood was up to, especially now that they counted Edward Snowden among their ranks, but there was something else on his mind right now. "Um, I was wondering... What was I like as a baby?"

"Mm." William rubbed his knuckles across his beard as he considered the question. Finally he answered. "Unremarkable."

Desmond's face twitched. He slouched into the chair in front of William's desk. "So, you came back from whatever Assassin mission you were on while I was being born, and Mom goes 'Here, Bill, meet our cute little baby boy' and you went 'Oh, he looks unremarkable'?"

William closed his eyes and grit his teeth for a long second before replying. "No. It wasn't like that." He rested the tips of his fingers on his forehead. "I only meant that, compared to everyone else's babies, you weren't especially fussy, nor especially quiet. You didn't hit any developmental milestones early or late. Your entire early childhood was uncannily average."

"Hmph." Desmond lightly bounced Andrew in his arms. "Well, this little guy's definitely very remarkable. He's one-of-a-kind. Fucking amazing. I love 'im." He laughed. "Weird, huh? Even though having him has turned my life upside down, turned my body into a freakshow, put all my Assassin-ing on hold..." He frowned for half a second, sniffed, then smiled again, albeit shakily. "But I love 'im and I think he's amazing. Just look at 'im." Desmond lifted the baby up a little higher. "His little nose and stuff, his tiny fingers and nails, his... everything. God, it's weird. I feel happy just being near 'im. Guess it's parental instinct or something."

A smile appeared on William's face now too. "It was the same with you."

"Yeah? Do tell."

"When I... " William clenched his hand on his knee. "When I got back to the Farm... It was already late April. I knew Janet would have given birth while I was gone." His voice trembled a little on his wife's name. "I headed straight for our cabin. And there she was... and there **you** were." He looked into Desmond's eyes with a rare warmth. "We... we were very happy. Indescribably so."

Desmond smiled wider. "I bet you hadn't had any trouble with picking my name, huh? Or at least you probably had it picked way earlier than I did for Andrew. 'Cause you guys were actually trying for a kid."

"Well, for a time we considered the name 'Douglas'."

Without even thinking, Desmond stuck out his tongue and said, "Ech."

William chuckled. "But, yes, you're correct; we made our final decisions very early on. By the second month or so, we'd settled on Desmond Nicholas for a boy, or Helen Nicole for a girl."

"Helen Miles," Desmond said slowly, trying and failing to imagine himself as a girl. "Huh."

"I suppose it wasn't really our decision, though, was it?" William said with a soft sigh. "Your name was predestined."

"No," Desmond said abruptly and forcefully. "You coulda named me whatever, I'd still have the same ancestors, the same magic DNA. Minerva only told Ezio 'It's up to Desmond' 'cause they looked in the future and saw what name you'd pick."

William made a "hm" and then a slight acquiescing nod.

Desmond steered the conversation back away from Those Who Came Before. "So I was a good kid, huh? I mean, up until the whole teenage rebel runaway thing?"

"You were quite well-behaved for a while, yes. Far from perfect, of course, but far from terrible. As I said, uncannily average. ...We, ah, tried..." William was now staring dimly at his keyboard, grey eyes growing misty with remembrance. "Tried to have another child. A few years after you. But we-" He cleared his throat loudly, dislodging whatever emotions had been creeping into his voice, and when he spoke again, it was with his usual flat tone. "Well, as you already know, we didn't succeed."

"Oh. Uh." Desmond had no idea how to respond to this. "Sorry to hear that." _I wonder how much different things woulda been if I had a little brother or sister? Would I have still run away? Left them behind with the Assassins, or maybe taken them with me?_ He blinked rapidly, shoving away such fruitless thoughts. _Doesn't matter now. I don't have siblings and I never will._ This somehow made him feel incredibly sad, and he drew in a deep breath through his nose before saying, "Speaking of Mom... Do you have any pictures of her?"

"A few."

"Can I have one? For the Andrew album. I wanna put his whole family in there." The word 'family' felt bittersweet as it left his lips.

William smiled fondly. "Of course, Desmond. Of course."

* * *

><p>"Salvo Andrew, che ha il suo papino. E tutti fanno la nanna."<p>

"Hey, man. Kiddo asleep?"

Desmond turned to the big man in the doorway. "Hey Spence. Yeah, he's out like a light. Has it been three hours already?"

"Yeah, it was a pretty interesting session." Spencer beckoned him out to the hallway so they could talk without having to whisper. "You ever heard of James Kidd?"

"Should I have?"

"He's an Assassin, and a really interesting fellow." Spencer leaned on the wall, arms crossed. "This last memory, he was explaining to Edward what Eagle Vision is."

"Oh really? A dude from hundreds of years ago figured out about First Civ DNA?"

Spencer waved his hand. "Heh, nah, man. But he did say it was possible for anyone to be able to sense 'the light of life, the residue of vitality' if they just try hard enough. You think that's true? You think anyone could get themselves Eagle Vision?"

Desmond rolled his eyes. "It's genetic, man, you either have it or you don't."

"Well, you used to not have it and now you do," Spencer pointed out.

"I've got the genes for it, though; the Bleeding Effect just activated them somehow."

"Maybe everyone has the genes. Maybe there's other ways to activate them."

"Umm." Desmond pondered this for a minute. "I'unno. Maybe? I mean, hell, if male pregnancy is possible, then who the fuck knows. But seriously, don't you think if Eagle Vision was gettable by normal people, we'd know it by now?"

Spencer gave him a troubled look. "Uh, 'normal people'? So you're, what, better than us 'normals'?"

Desmond facepalmed. "Sorry, bad choice of words."

"Sounds to me like somebody just wants to keep his special skill all to himself."

Desmond dropped his hand from his face and shot Spencer a mild glare. "Whatever, dude. You wanna try to train your eyes, then go for it. Keep in mind, though, it's not perfect. Lucy was blue. Al Mualim was blue. Tarik was red."

"Who's that last one?"

"Uh, some guy... One of Ezio's targets, but he was actually good." Desmond would have explained further, but decided that the intricacies of sixteenth-century Byzantine politics were too... well, Byzantine for him to sum up adequately.

"Whatever. How come that last bit doesn't rhyme? On that lullaby."

"Oh, uh." Desmond chuckled. "It's 'cause I changed the words. See, uh, originally it's 'Ognuno ha la sua mamma, e tutti fanno la nanna', which is, like, 'Everybody has their mommy, and everybody goes to sleep.' But, y'know, obviously he doesn't have a mommy." He fidgeted a bit, self-conscious about repeatedly saying the childish word 'mommy'.

Spencer nodded with a savvy half-smile.

"So I added a line in between, making it 'Everybody has their mommy, except Andrew who has his daddy.'"

"And then everyone goes to sleep. Cool. Hey, Rebecca's got your photos printed." Spencer shook his head. "I can't believe they let you use Instagram, or even keep using your cell phone at all, what with the security implications."

Desmond gave him a playful punch on the arm. "Hey, it's not like I was posting them to Facebook or something. I'm not a total idiot. And anyway Rebecca did some sorta mod to my phone hardware so it stopped even putting out any signals."

"Oh. Of course, yeah."

Desmond grinned. "I woulda gone insane if I couldn't get in a round of _Jetpack Joyride_ now and then between Animus sessions and all the other shit. I bet that's why Clay lost his marbles, actually; he sure didn't have any smartphone on 'im at Abstergo."

"Dude." Spencer's face turned sour. "He was a friend of mine. Don't joke about him like that."

But Desmond had already left to find Rebecca, and was too far away down the hall to hear this protestation.

* * *

><p>"So, this will be a short one, Dad... uh, something to remember me by if things go south... if I don't make it out of the Temple today."<p>

"**What** are you listening to?!" Desmond yell-yelped from the doorway, startling Rebecca. She didn't have a chance to respond before he continued shouting. "Motherfucker, I said 'print my photos', not 'go snooping in all my shit'!" By now he'd angrily strode over to her desk and jerked the phone from the USB cable.

The audio program stuttered to a stop, having lost access to the source file. "Hey, sorry!" Rebecca frantically tried to explain herself. "I just- It said 'Listen After December 21st' so I-"

"That's- Aaargh, **obviously** you're only supposed to listen to it if I'm **dead**! Goddammit, shoulda picked a better playlist title, but I couldn't figure out how to change it once I set it," Desmond grumbled as he swiped through the phone's menu. "With all the pregnancy shit going on, I forgot I even recorded these. Shoulda fucking deleted them right when we left the Temple."

"Hey, don't delete 'em, they're sweet!"

"Uuugh," Desmond groaned, fists clenched in rage. "That's the whole problem! They're too fucking sentimental."

"Says the guy who wants to add handwritten notes to his kid's baby album."

Desmond's face went red. "Goddammit. That's... that's not the same! Just gimme the pics you printed already." Rebecca held them up and he snatched them from her, then stomped away, muttering under his breath. Just before exiting the room, he turned back and declared, "All that stupid emotional crap I recorded, that was just the fucking preggo hormones, okay?!"

"You don't really love your parents or feel sorry for Connor or anything? All of that was the hormones talking?"

"Well, most of it! Some of it! Arrgh, leave me alone!" he yelled, at last retreating from her inquisition.


End file.
